Wisteria
by Cloud Traveler
Summary: Even if Madara Uchiha wore that mask – that of a merciless killer, of a vicious demon – and no one else bothered to crack it, Hashirama Senju could see right through it; he himself wore that same exact mask, and he knew its weight. So Hashirama tries reaching him, but there's a problem: Madara does not want to be reached. HashiMada.
1. Summer

**Summer**

Red eyes. Burning, spinning, glaring – filled with hatred, filled with anger, frightening, intriguing, but most of all: dangerous. He'd never forget the first time he saw them. Those eyes. _Those eyes_. So expressive, so lively, but still so cold. It wasn't the first time Hashirama Senju had seen a Sharingan, most definitely not. If it had been, if he had been that inexperienced, he would've inevitably died; the owner of those eyes was a demon on the battlefield, mowing through hoards of fine soldiers like they were mere pawns, coloring the grass red with their blood like an artist painting a masterpiece. He _shouldn't_ be mesmerized, but this person, this enemy, the clan's enemy; he was a force to be reckoned with. Anything else but his best would lead to his death.

But Hashirama didn't have the luxury to stand around and gaze his enemy who was slaughtering men, his clansmen no less, left and right. He was in the middle of a war after all. A war that had been waging for decades, generations, a war bigger than himself. He didn't understand – why all this fighting, why all this hatred? Surely if they just tried to talk to each other, to understand each other, this wouldn't happen?

Still young, and even after all the battles he went through, still so optimistic.

Or maybe naïve was the better word, if you asked his elders.

The sky was dark, filled with smoke and clouds hiding the hot summer sun, fire and death surrounding him from every side. The flames were burning down anything that was susceptible to the blazing fire, and all sorts of weapons ranging from simple katanas to spears were stuck in the ground, abandoned by their owners who were either dead or had found something better to fight with. He didn't like it. All this fighting and screaming and killing made him worried for his younger brother. Somehow, in all the chaos, Hashirama had lost sight of Tobirama. This was even more concerning considering this was Tobirama's first time in such a wide, unforgiving battlefield. Hashirama knew he could hold his own but still, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on him.

His path, however, was being blocked by several enemies, so he figured he'd have to quickly deal with those and then find his brother who'd gotten lost just a few minutes ago in the sea of warring soldiers. Enemies. Hashirama realized the way he was looking at these men – who were no doubt fighting for the safety of their own clan and family – as if they were mere obstacles. Faceless, nameless; just enemies meant to be killed. So impersonal. It made him feel sick. But he couldn't sympathize now; as they were fighting for their clan, he was fighting for his. A huge, thick root shot out of the ground, and with a large swipe, wiped the unknown enemies away, throwing them several feet in the air and out of Hashirama's path. His Mokuton, Hashirama noted, was sufficient, but not nearly on the level it should be. It was too slow, too uncontrolled; he'd nearly hit a fellow clansmen with the root had the man not jumped out of the way in time. For a moment, his eyes slid to the spot where he'd first spotted that demon, but it seemed like he'd disappeared again.

Hashirama had just arrived on the battlefield and everything was already in complete chaos in front of him. He was still young, just fourteen years old, too young, most would say, to partake in such a huge battle. Just a kid, but, his elders reasoned, his unique ability should be used to its utmost capacity for the sake of the clan. Hashirama was a kid, an obedient kid who hadn't known the true horrors of war yet. This was only the second time he'd gotten into such a huge battle, and it still made him just as nervous as the first time. Sure, he had been in battles before, but never ones that were this big and chaotic and bloody. But since this was his second time, he'd been more prepared than the first time; back then he'd gotten panicked, even if he hadn't shown it, and let his Mokuton run wild. Fortunately his clansmen had been fast enough to jump out of the way when Hashirama warned them he was going to attack. He was mostly a long-range fighter, but was frighteningly strong in close quarter combat as well.

It then seemed his technique had attracted unwanted attention. _'Of course it would, a giant root shooting out of the ground isn't exactly subtle,'_ Hashirama thought annoyed as he seemed surrounded by even more enemies now. Wait, where was he? A quick scan of the area told him he'd somehow been separated from the others and was closer to enemy territory. _'Fantastic, just my luck'._

The demon returned into sight. For a moment, he'd disappeared and Hashirama had lost track of him, but he was back again. He only had a split-second to glance at him and focus back on his own fight so he wouldn't get killed. He was straining his abilities at this point with so many of them surrounding him, but in the end he managed to carve his way back to his clansmen. Priority: finding his younger brother. He looked around him, looking for a speck of spiky, white hair. What he saw instead was something entirely different.

That demon, who'd massacred those men effortlessly, had his eyes locked on him. Hashirama, cautious of the Uchiha clan's abilities, checked his chakra for any irregularities. _'Damn, got caught!'_ Quickly, he disrupted his chakra flow and redirected it all together, getting out of the genjutsu just in time to dodge a huge fireball coming his way. He rolled over the ground and quickly got up_. 'A powerful technique for someone his age,'_ he thought as he eyed the demon standing several feet away from him, seeming to be slightly surprised and curious.

They both were, Hashirama noticed as he momentarily scanned the Uchiha's face, around the same age now he actually paid closer attention to it. At least, they couldn't be very far apart. This boy was different though, different from the other kids that were also thrown into the battle and whom Hashirama had defeated – and killed. Not a faceless enemy Hashirama wanted to only sympathize with. In the moment they'd locked eyes, staring at each other, he'd known, and he was sure the demon boy had known too: they were alike.

"Brother!" Hashirama glanced to his left and let out a sigh of relief when Tobirama joined him again, a bloody sword in his left hand. He didn't look panicked or startled at first glance, but Hashirama knew his brother well enough to tell when he was shaken by something, and he was definitely shaken up by this war. Tobirama had always been a one-way street; one moment indecipherably stoic and the next merrily cracking jokes. Now, it seemed he was just very overwhelmed and slightly disoriented by all the noise and violence around him. They barely had time to speak as they had to dodge another Katon jutsu. Or rather, Hashirama had decided to dodge and let his brother handle it as the younger sibling had already begun to make hand seals, his reflexes as impressive as ever. Tobirama used a Suiton technique to put most of the fire out swiftly. As Hashirama dodged, the demon took advantage of his momentarily distracted mind and their swords clashed.

Hashirama was almost startled by the sudden force in the attack. Almost. He made sure to keep the Uchiha boy busy by attacking rapidly with his own katana to make sure he didn't have time to cast another annoying genjutsu. Then he noticed, with the demon's face up close, that while the Uchiha had ruthlessly killed Hashirama's clansmen, he had a certain look in his eyes Hashirama couldn't place at first. Was it anger? Hatred? No, it wasn't. For a moment, just a mere moment, as those intense, red eyes drifted off to Tobirama who was covering Hashirama's back, using his Suiton to wipe out a few Uchiha, there was only sorrow. Sorrow that quickly turned into a burning hatred, anger that then was directed towards Hashirama as the demon's attacks intensified to the point where the Senju boy couldn't block anymore and had to dodge, relying on his Mokuton to throw the demon off balance. But naturally, the Uchiha boy didn't relent.

Hashirama didn't know how long they'd been fighting when his side signaled a retreat. The sun had already gone down and it was getting dark so it had to have been several hours. Several hours, fighting the same person. He didn't even have time to so much as glance at Tobirama, who no doubt had his hands full behind him if the occasional sound of splashing water and screaming was anything to go by. No one else existed. The demon demanded his full attention, otherwise he was done for. It felt like their swords had been talking to each other, or maybe screaming was a better word: anger, sorrow, fear, panic, desperation and more anger. All those emotions meeting as metal clashed upon metal, two men – no, two boys who were in the same predicament could both see the same look in each other's eyes.

The look of a child that had been forced to grow up too soon.

Hashirama wondered, if their clans hadn't been sworn enemies, if they hadn't been in this stupid war and if they hadn't been forced to fight and kill at such a young age, could they have been friends? Could they have laughed with each other, shared stories with each other, pulled pranks with each other and on each other like any other friends did?

This thought, that had so suddenly arisen in the back of his mind, would stay there for a very long time. It would come up every other time the two men would meet from then on, and every other time Hashirama wondered if there couldn't be peace between them. Though neither of them knew it yet, this miniscule seed of thought that had been planted inside the head of a fourteen year old boy who saw another in the same position, would grow out into a friendship, a longing, an ideal, into a legacy, into something bigger than both of them, but also into something completely unexpected. Something complex and tortuous and daunting, but also beautiful and glorious and breath-taking and so much more.

Both sides were done fighting.

Hashirama cast one last look upon the stranger, whom he'd soon find out was destined to become the Uchiha clan leader the same way Hashirama was destined to become the Senju clan leader. They were both prodigies, they were both fighting a pointless war for their family, for their clan, for peace, and he knew as the Uchiha boy stared back, and the Uchiha boy knew too, without words, through pure instinct –

_'We are so much alike.'_

* * *

**Le first chapter.**

**So anyway, a quick explanation on how I'm going to do this: the first four chapters are basically going to be pure character development and focus on the past of the main characters before the founding of Konoha. As you can already tell from this chapter's name, we start with _Summer_ and we go through the seasons and end with _Spring_.**

**You can consider this an AU fic, as after a while I'm going to _completely _stray from the canon and devise my own little ending to the tale of these two rivals; for better of for worse, you'll just have to follow the story to find out ;)**

**But for now, I'm going to stay as close to the canon as I can, and BELIEVE ME, I have done a shit ton of research in the Naruto wikia and Databooks.**

**Though they didn't give me much to work with...**

**But there you have it.**

**Reviews are appreciated :)**


	2. Autumn

**Autumn**

Three years had passed, and nothing had changed. The rivalry, the hostility and the resentment was still there. It was always, _always _the same. Always the Senju, and always against the Uchiha, and every time, whenever there was a war, whenever there was a huge battle, Madara always saw _him_ there on the opposite side, brimming with confidence and strength. Power. It drew the young Uchiha to him like a bee to honey; a worthy opponent, begging to be destroyed.

Six months after he'd first seen him and had repeatedly battled him, Madara hadn't bothered to find out the name of this boy, not during their first few battles anyway. But during the fourth battle, Madara had decided enough was enough. Every single time it was this guy, this _same_ guy. They'd see each other, their eyes would lock, and then no one else but them was on the battlefield. Eventually, the just fourteen year old Uchiha got the impression that this astonishingly tenacious opponent was not one to go down easily. In fact, he was certain this person was the perfect match for him, the perfect rival; an obstacle he had to overcome if he wanted to prove he was _truly _strong.

War did not scare him, battle did not scare him. Death did, but that fear was also the thing keeping him alive. From an incredibly young age, from the moment he was old enough to hold a kunai, Madara had been taught to kill. War was his blood, the fuel to his anger, his life, his focus, his purpose. It was cruel, it was so hideous and sad – Madara had overheard his uncle say this to his wife just the other day – and so horrible, that such a young life was thrown away and wasted in battle when the boy could've been outside playing with friends instead of training. Madara agreed with his uncle, but not for his own sake. For Izuna's sake. His younger brother, who had just recently turned eleven, could not participate in the larger battles just yet, but he was getting there, and though Madara told him to be prepared and trained with him every now and then, Madara did not like it. He did _not _like it for one bit.

Don't misunderstand. He enjoyed battle and fighting against worthy opponents, but what he was fighting in was a bloody, unforgiving war. He had seen his clansmen, people he _knew, _getting either serious injuries or dying by the hands of the Senju clan. Every single time. Madara's perfect rival, of course, did it too. His one of a kind Kekkei Genkai, Mokuton, was a great way to take out multiple opponents at the same time, and after just a few more battles, Madara heard his name being whispered among even the more experienced shinobi in his clan.

Hashirama Senju.

Madara had decided that he was going to memorize that name.

Autumn had just begun, as was evident from the orange and red colored leaves falling down from their trees. The Land of Wind had hired the Uchiha clan whilst the Land of Earth had hired the Senju clan. Madara did not care much for the reason behind the sudden war between the two countries when previously they had been on relatively good terms. He had heard, however, that the Earth Daimyō had allegedly broken some sort of contract and the Wind Daimyō apparently did not take very kindly to his contracts being broken.

'_Does it even matter?' _Madara wondered as he swiftly dodged a barrage of kunai being thrown his way. Whatever quarrel those feudal lords had was of no concern to him. He had his opponents, he had his assignment, and that was that.

He was in a squad of six, flanking the enemy, or at least had _attempted_ to flank the enemy. The Senju clan had come prepared. They were near the borders of the Land of Earth, and Madara could see the barren, rocky lands that made up the large chunk of a country. Didn't seem like a very compelling place to live to him, much less protect. But, it was not the appropriate time to get distracted by the depressing environment, because he had spotted his rival. Madara instantly recognized that face. As if his body had already tuned itself to the Senju's presence, Madara felt his heartbeat quicken its pace, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Anticipation, excitement, but also tension all instantly wiped out the feelings of irritation and anxiety he'd previously been feeling.

_'He's here.'_

Soon enough, he saw roots shooting out of the ground, shaping the battlefield to the Senju's advantage, one root even managing to get a firm grip on one of Madara's clansmen, lifting him up and effectively throwing him off the cliff which wasn't too far away. Madara felt rage rising with his body temperature, however, he was also… impressed. This was their nth time in battle, and their last one had been about a month ago. The Senju prodigy had obviously improved his skills, as Madara could tell that he could control his wood with relatively less effort and it also seemed slightly more powerful than it was before. Of course, Madara hadn't been sitting on his ass either.

He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but whenever they fought, there was no room for other people. It was like their own little dance, a dance only fit for two. No one else would be able to keep up and no one else had the right steps. By now, their fellow clansmen had learned to leave them to fight their battle while they fought on the sidelines. Even if the both of them were still young, they were frighteningly strong. Madara's eyes were locked on him at all times, trying to read every movement from the slightest twitch of the finger to the most powerful swing of the arm when the katana the Senju prodigy was holding was brought down towards him, the blade meeting the earth as Madara dodged it immediately.

Blazing fire, wind, strong roots, earth being thrown around, screams, panting, groaning, sweat, blood – their battle seemed to be endless. Then, the horns were blown as a signal of retreat from the Uchiha side, and just like that, their dance stopped. Nightfall. They were catching their breaths, staring at each other as they held their weapons tight and even leaning on them. Madara saw the corners of his opponent's mouth pull upwards, into a tired smirk.

"Till we meet again, Madara Uchiha."

This caught the Uchiha off-guard, and there weren't many things that could catch him off-guard. The Senju's slight smirk only widened when he caught a tiny glimpse of Madara's stunned expression, even if it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Though Madara had bothered to learn the Senju's name, he had not expected that the Senju would actually learn his. This was also the first time Madara heard him _talk _instead of the usual roar or grunt. His voice was deep, and strong, and seemed to pierce right through all the noise around them of their comrades screaming and the sound of people retreating – or perhaps that was only because Madara was so _intently_ focused on it.

The young Uchiha did not know if the Senju himself had realized it yet, but he had the makings of a leader.

"Until we meet again, Hashirama Senju."

The momentary look of surprise on the Senju's face was almost enough to make Madara smile.

Almost.

So they both retreated, and back at the camp Madara got his injuries treated. His forearm had a nasty cut on it, he had several bruises on his torso and lower body, his right leg was bleeding profusely from a pretty deep wound and the back of his head was aching slightly. But all of that was completely irrelevant as his mind was already back at thinking up ways to beat that Senju. It had started to become an obsession, lately. Whatever strategy he devised for a battle, he always, _always _included a specific tactic against his rival Senju.

Many would dismiss this odd fact and excuse it to be caused by Madara's intense hatred, but the man himself knew this was not the case – it was not simply _hatred _that drove him to consider Hashirama in every plan he created. It was his way of respecting his opponent. He'd proved to Madara that he deserved nothing less but his utmost consideration, and while many would confuse Madara's confidence and pride in his abilities for arrogance, he was certainly not above recognizing his enemy's prowess, and no one could deny him that.

This was not to claim that Madara was not arrogant. He most undoubtedly was at times – but he was also capable of recognizing when he was wrong, even if he did not necessarily admit this to anyone else, which of course did not help his reputation. But then again, he did not care much what some gossiping housewives and their uselessly weak and pathetic husbands thought of him, as long as Hashirama Senju did not think him to be weak.

Madara frowned at himself, and corrected that odd thought.

As long as his _opponents_ did not think him to be weak.

Much better.

Madara briefly and somewhat curiously wondered why his mind had drifted off to the Senju again.

He then dismissed it as being something arbitrary, and returned to glaring irritably at the medical-nin who was torturing him by disinfecting his wounds.

Or so he'd claim.

And then Izuna would roll his eyes at him.

* * *

Days passed, weeks, months, years, and not much changed. Not much. Nothing important, anyway. Or, nothing Madara would want to deem important. One would say that unlocking the never-before-seen Mangekyō Sharingan could be considered important, but Madara simply had seen it the logical next step in his rise to become a legend, but it had been a _huge_ sacrifice. Something he'd rather not think about, something dark and hideous and cruel. His best friend had… granted, he'd had already been on his death bed; still, it had been one of the darkest days of his life, and yet it had been necessary, to get stronger – to be able to protect his clan, his family, his younger brother. Yet did this not lessen his guilt about it, but there was no time to ponder about things that had already been done; it was war time and he did not have that luxury.

He was nineteen, and already after the position of leader of the Uchiha clan. He rather easily surpassed everyone in his age group and all of his elders. Only Izuna could rival him, as he too had unlocked the Mangekyō Sharingan for the same price – though the brothers never spoke of it, for there were some things even the closest of siblings couldn't bear to acknowledge – but he wasn't interested in being the leader; he thought Madara was much more suited for that role, not to mention he was too young anyway, being only sixteen years old. But he would support his older brother in any way he could.

Then, there was that faithful day in autumn. On that day Madara had heard the news being brought to him by his younger brother.

Hashirama Senju, twenty-two years old, and the new leader of the Senju clan.

Hashirama Senju had beaten him in the race for leadership.

Granted, this race had actually only taken place in Madara's head, but it was a loss, a fictional loss, but a loss nonetheless – and losses were _unacceptable_ by Uchiha standards.

This fictional race Izuna would have called the tiny splinter of evidence to Madara's childishness, because he was indeed capable of being childish, or so his brother would say. Madara himself would never call it being childish, because he was Madara Uchiha and Madara Uchiha was a respectable, sensible and intelligent individual, _not _immature in any way, shape or form. If anything it was evidence to his competitive nature; something that all fine shinobi were ought to have.

Madara Uchiha was also capable of lying, even to himself.

"It seems like your rival just got promoted." Izuna remarked as they were outside in the large garden in front of Madara's room. Izuna himself was sitting against one of the several trees, watching his older brother pace up and down with a deep scowl on his face, no doubt pondering the news Izuna had just given him. The younger brother didn't know _what _it was with Madara but he really seemed set on crushing this Hashirama Senju. He'd been set on doing it for eight years now, and yet the score was pretty much even, so Izuna doubted it would be resolved any time soon.

Not like that would give his obsessed older brother any incentive to give up – heavens no.

Nevertheless, Madara had conflicted feelings about this news. He strongly believed that one's enemies defined a person. The stronger your enemies, the better your own worth. It showed how big of a threat you actually were. To have his perfect rival be the strongest Senju, their leader, was satisfactory. However, he was dismayed at the idea that now he was no longer the same rank as Hashirama Senju was. It only increased his anxiety and hunger to become the clan leader, to _at the very least _stand on equal footing with the Senju.

"Brother, would you sit down already?" Izuna requested with a sigh, having had enough of seeing his brother looking so intently focused while completely ignoring him. What was he, a random messenger? The décor to the dramatic up-and-down pacing Madara was conducting at the moment, perhaps?

Madara finally stopped pacing, coming to a slow halt, and the far-away look in his eyes disappeared as he now gazed at Izuna.

"You realize this is important news." Madara stated, not understanding why Izuna wasn't contemplating about this as much. Of course he also failed to understand that _Izuna _wasn't the one with the unhealthy obsession with a Senju. At this, the younger brother just sighed and smiled, somewhat tired. "Izuna, this _is _important news." Madara's personal feelings aside, this also meant the Senju clan would get stronger, because there was no doubt in Madara's mind that Hashirama Senju would make a much better leader than the previous one. They were going to attempt to end this rivalry between their two clans once and for all – by attempting to crush the Uchiha clan.

That's what Madara thought at the time.

So he couldn't let his own clan stay in the hands of an old man who couldn't keep up with the new generation anymore. They had to get stronger as well, they needed a stronger leader who could protect them and destroy their enemies. But no, there were always complaints of his youth and his "supposed" inexperience (the fact was that Madara was more than used to leading under high pressure by now, having led entire platoons of men in war, even if the elders willfully ignored that) and it was frustrating him to no end. He _knew _his leadership would benefit the clan, he _knew _he was the perfect guy for the job, and yet they still hid under excuses and trivialities because they were cowardly traditionalists, because they thought he was too "ambitious" and "bold" – but by the Sage, Madara was going to drag his clan to glory, whether they wanted it or not.

"I understand, but can't you rest every now and then? Let father deal with this. He's still the clan leader, isn't he? Or did you take over while I was taking a nap?" Madara's face told Izuna that he was not amused.

Too bad for him, then. Madara had completely ruined Izuna's quiet afternoon (the only free afternoon he had in this _entire_ week) by dragging him out here and first questioning him like their lives depended on it, then suddenly shutting up and pacing up and down for a total of seventeen minutes, not saying another word. So, if he was irritated by _one _little remark that was made in jest, well, then Izuna would very much like to tell his brother to shove it. 'Twas a good thing that Izuna wasn't a fool, because if he did _that, _a good beating under the guise of a spar would be imminent.

"He is. Though I predict not for long." Madara noted indifferently, but Izuna knew his brother well enough to see that glint in his eyes. That glint that told you that whatever Madara was planning was going to be grand, ambitious, mind-blowing, and most important of all – life-threatening.

"Brother?"

* * *

**My oh my. What could he possibly be planning?**

**Well, that was that.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! They help me to write faster, and this is not a joke; just ask any writer around here and they'll tell you it's true ;)**


	3. Winter

**Winter**

"_What_?" Hashirama Senju could not believe his ears. An entire clan, _destroyed _by only two people? He gazed at his brother, and though his face was as composed and calm as always, the slight surprise in his eyes was unmistakable. Tobirama sighed, having heard the news himself just a few minutes ago from a messenger.

It was the Yamazaki clan, which had settled for a while near the borders of the Land of Fire, threateningly close to the Uchiha clan. The Yamazaki clan was relatively well-known for their diversity and expertise in elemental ninjutsu. It was a known fact the Yamazaki clan did not get along well with the Uchiha clan, and members of both clans had gotten into fights in the past though it had never resulted in a war, firstly because the Uchiha clan had not wanted to bother with another clan whilst having a fierce rivalry with the Senju, and the Yamazaki clan knew they would probably lose anyhow. They were strong, but rather small, consisting of only about fifty people or so. Compared to the Uchiha, whose number of members was in the hundred and being the second strongest clan in the world, there was no way they would be able to win in an all-out war.

Nonetheless, the Yamazaki had been a thorn (even if it was a small thorn) in the Uchiha's side for a long time now _–_ claiming more and more territory _–_ so no doubt it was good news for them to know they were gone. At least, the shinobi were gone. The women and small children had all been left alive, so apparently the people who'd attacked them hadn't been heartless monsters, at least. Still, the Yamazaki clan was no more. Tobirama himself was not at all surprised when he'd heard who the culprits were behind the sudden obliteration of the Yamazaki. Apparently they'd walked right into their main base, one with scythe in hand and both ready for battle. Then one of them had proceeded to call out the head of the Yamazaki clan, demanding a fight. The Yamazaki leader had asked if this was a declaration of war from the Uchiha. But the man had simply laughed.

If Tobirama recalled correctly, the exact words the Uchiha had uttered were, _'A declaration of war? No, this is simply a little clean-up.' _

That is, if the rumors hadn't been exaggerated. They probably had been and the man had most likely not said anything along those lines – if he'd even said anything at all.

But all of that was, of course, not even the most important part. Hashirama was just taking in all this information, and he too realized this couldn't have been "a simple clean-up". There had to have been an ulterior motive. The Uchiha clan wouldn't needlessly wipe out another clan; no matter how many rumors there were of their brutality, it wasn't their style.

"Go on." Hashirama said after his three-second pause in which he'd interpreted the news, and was now ready for no doubt the most crucial part. Tobirama relaxed on his chair, sitting in the study room with Hashirama standing right across him, his arms folded with a contemplative look on his face.

"This all happened about two weeks ago. The same man responsible, right after the massacre, walked right up to the Uchiha clan leader and demanded his position. The other guy with him got the position as his right-hand man." Tobirama told him, yawning lazily before continuing. "Of course they couldn't have been refused after _that_ little show of power." Once again, Hashirama's surprised face showed up for a brief moment.

"I see. Then the motive behind the slaughter was a personal one. So who is the new clan leader and his second-in-command?" Hashirama asked, though he felt like he already knew the answer. There was only one man ambitious enough and capable enough to pull something like this off.

"Your rival and his little brother. Who else could it be?" Tobirama pestered his older brother, who only let out a deep sigh.

"Madara and Izuna Uchiha. Of course." It was to be expected.

"So." Tobirama said, smirking mildly at him. Hashirama frowned, recognizing that smirk that told him whatever Tobirama was thinking wasn't an amusing thought. At least not for him.

"So?" Hashirama questioned, though he figured he was going to regret it in three, two, one –

"How much do you want to bet that he did this _all _for you?"

"Tobirama, really…."

"What? It can't be a coincidence. One week after you became our clan leader this man goes off on a rampage to prove his worth and subsequently became the Uchiha clan leader. You don't think that's even slightly… let's say, suspicious?" Hashirama rubbed his forehead, not wanting to deal with this teasing again. Of course Tobirama had noticed – hell, everyone with eyes had noticed by now – that during every battle, in every strategy Hashirama created, he always, _always _thought of Madara Uchiha. While this was not very surprising, seeing as how he was the biggest threat to them, Hashirama was being a little _too _obsessive about it. Usually, everyone, except for Tobirama, just figured that Hashirama only had an intense hatred specifically for Madara and they didn't think much else of it. Tobirama, however, knew better.

"What's your point?"

"My point is that he seems to obsess about you just as much as you obsess about him. Isn't that just _lovely_?"

"I do not "_obsess_", Tobirama."

"Right, right, you just want to make friends with the Uchiha demon." His younger brother's smirk disappeared and his expression turned sour. He scowled at Hashirama with a scornful expression, but the older brother just ignored it as he walked over to his window, staring outside. Cold, the sky was clouded, the trees looked dead and it was unnaturally quiet. Hashirama had never liked winters much. Especially the snowing. "Because that's what you're trying to do, isn't it? Forming an alliance, I mean." In fact, right now everything that had the color white irritated him, including and _especially_ aggravating relatives.

"Little brother," Hashirama said in that way that irked Tobirama to no end, which is why he'd probably said it in the first place, "my good-natured, _immature_, little brother. That's enough."

"Tsk tsk, and name-calling is not immature?"

"It's not an insult, Tobirama, I'm just stating what I observe. You're being immature."

"But it's still insu-" Tobirama interrupted himself when he realized his brother had successfully derailed the conversation, making him forget his original point. Hashirama had an entertained look in his eyes as he watched his brother make a face that resembled a pout (though Tobirama would endlessly deny this – grown men did _not _pout, after all). "Oh, you're the _worst_."

"Am I?" Hashirama said with his tone calm as always, but an underlying note of amusement could be seen behind his serene mask. Tobirama had seen it far too often, and was the only one who could see straight through it. He quirked an eyebrow and Hashirama's mask broke into a smirk.

"Get that smug grin off your face. What I was _trying _to say before you ninja'd your way out of the conversation-"

"-Ninja is not a verb, little brother."

"-was that this… this alliance you have planned, is _never _going to work." Tobirama was genuinely concerned. Or maybe, concerned wasn't the right word. He was skeptical. "This is the clan we have warred with for generations, this is the clan that has killed so many of our friends and family, the leader of this clan is now the most merciless and distrustful man I've ever seen – who, by the way, hates us even more than the average Uchiha – and _slaughtered_ an entire clan just to prove a point! And you want to _negotiate _with these people? Do you think it's peace they want? Brother, they won't stop until every single Senju is dead and buried. Using diplomacy would be a waste of time."

But his older brother – the humanitarian, the peace-loving saint, their altruistic leader, and so on and so forth – would never give up on it so easily.

"You can't see what I see, and I don't blame you. But I truly believe that both sides have gotten tired of all this fighting. Haven't you?" Hashirama paused for a moment to look at his younger brother who just scowled at him, and the older one just continued his lecture while staring out the window. "They're not made of stone, they're still humans. No human could take this much battle and death and still want more. I can see it on their faces, Tobirama, the same as I can see it on _your _face. We're at our limit." Tobirama stayed silent for a moment, pondering over Hashirama's words. He did have a point, but the younger brother wasn't convinced just yet.

"What did you see?" he questioned. The older one turned his body and leaned against the wall right next to the window, his arms crossed as he looked down at his sibling with a slight frown, not sure what Tobirama was asking. The white haired male clarified. "What did you see on whose face that gave you the impression that our clans are in the same boat?" Hashirama knew that Tobirama knew the answer. He didn't want to say it, but he never lied, and he wasn't about to start now.

"During one of my fights." Hashirama said slowly, turning his head to look out of the window again as he didn't want to face his sibling at the moment.

"With?" Tobirama pressed impatiently. A sigh escaped the older brother's lips.

"Madara Uchiha."

"Madara Uchiha…. Of course. It's _always_ Madara Uchiha."

Tobirama could now safely say he was concerned. This was not the typical rivalry between a Senju and Uchiha, and from what he could conclude both sides involved in this had had an abnormal fixation on each other since day one. He knew there was something bigger behind this, but for now the obsession was tolerable so he didn't question his older brother about it anymore. What really worried him was this treaty Hashirama had planned. There was no guarantee it would work.

But Hashirama wasn't naïve. He knew that for a peace treaty, for any form of alliance to take place, they needed to take baby steps. For one, start avoiding unnecessary battles. Secondly, stop the nasty habit of needless killing – even when the Uchiha clan retreated in a battle, which rarely happened as it was, some Senju clan members were spiteful enough to chase them down anyway. He had to decrease the animosity between the two sides, however difficult it was going to be, before even considering proposing a peace treaty of any sorts. Hashirama hadn't realized it yet, but this would actually take quite some time to come into fruition.

So a few years passed.

He held hope.

* * *

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews guys! Next chapter will be the last "background" chapter, so to speak, but the good stuff starts from there U_U**

**Hope you review again! It'd be much appreciated :D**

**See ya.**


	4. Spring

**Spring**

The result was better than he'd feared, but still worse than he'd hoped. While the two clans were still not exactly on the friendliest terms, battles were much less frequent than they used to be. Hashirama Senju was twenty-six by now, as four years had passed. Flowers in his well-maintained garden were blooming like they usually did in the spring. He always tended to them whenever he was able, but with his schedule it was hard to find the time to relax and sculpt wood outside in the beautifully sunny weather like he so loved to do.

Nevertheless, he would finally form the alliance with the Uchiha, and he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. This was the best possible solution for everyone, and he was sure that Madara Uchiha would be sensible enough to at least consider his offer. Because Hashirama really could see it in his face. Even if the Uchiha himself did not realize it, he was suffering. Hashirama had always had a particular ability to read even the most stoic of people, and though Madara had probably been the most stoic person he'd encountered, under that cold mask (the same mask Hashirama wore when the need arose) he was the most expressive person he'd ever met. Every feeling he conveyed during their fights had the power of an erupting volcano, and never ceased to amaze the Senju leader.

This was also why there was an instant connection, because Hashirama understood every single one of his outbursts of emotion. He could empathize completely, and he shared the anger, even if Madara's anger was directed at him and Hashirama's anger was directed at all the constant fighting around him, they had that anger for the same reasons. But it wasn't just anger, it was pain as well. Deep, soul-wrenching pain, caused by the loss of friends and relatives, seeing them get hurt or even dying. Even if Madara Uchiha wore that mask – the mask of a merciless killer, of a vicious demon – and everyone else only saw that terrifying mask adorning his face, Hashirama could see right through it; he himself wore that same exact mask, and he knew its weight. Sure, his fellow Senju didn't think so, but he was certain the Uchiha had gotten that impression from him during all the countless battles he'd fought against them.

Hashirama still remembered every single detail of one particular battle, because that battle he would _never _forget. It had been last year, the beginning of winter. The weather had chilled him to the bone, but he'd just ignored it, because he was in a fight for his life like he so often was, and his opponent would not forgive any errors. But that fight had been different, and not only because of his opponent's eyes. Those astonishingly red, _red _eyes the Senju couldn't help but be mesmerized by every single time. They had changed. Hashirama had noticed the difference instantly. It was like the first time he'd fought Madara's Mangekyō Sharingan; it had ended with Madara bleeding out of both eyes, unable to continue, and Hashirama stuck in a Tsukuyomi – the most painful experience in his entire life.

But that time, not only had the black pattern in his eyes been different, his behavior had been completely different as well. Usually they would take the time to look at each other, sometimes Madara's lips would even pull up in a sneer and he'd make a seemingly nonchalant remark about Hashirama's men that was really just a subtle jab at his leadership skills. Hashirama would respond in kind, though not so much insulting as speaking the truth. That time however, the minute Madara had locked eyes with him, his cold mask had _broken_ in an instant, and he'd immediately charged at him with his hand clutching his scythe like it was a life line, lashing out at Hashirama like never before, so much fury and hatred radiating off of him, but beneath that, there had only been more pain. So much more than before.

Hashirama had been startled. That had been the first time he'd ever witnessed such rage and sorrow combined, the snarling and growling like a ferocious animal, the roars, the furious and unrelenting attacks – the Senju hadn't even had the time to counter and could only stand in the defense for as flames had been attempting to scorch him and wind had been attempting to cut him into a million pieces. That had been no time to be distracted, but that face, that expression filled with such pure hate, the silent screams – it was disquieting, and it had worried him. During the entirety of the fierce battle, Hashirama had kept wondering, couldn't help but ask himself, '_What happened?'_

That had been nothing like Madara Uchiha, not one bit. Granted, they'd rarely had had a civil exchange of words, yet Hashirama felt like he _knew_ Madara, truly knew him, and at that time, that man had been so distraught, so angry, and in so much pain.

_"You're zoning out!" Madara roared, with Hashirama barely avoiding a blade aimed at his throat. He took his distance for a moment, observing the Uchiha with narrowed eyes. Madara seemed frustrated with this sudden interrupting. Did this have something to do with the sudden change in the black pattern in his eyes? Either way, it wasn't good. "What are you doing, Senju?! Fight me!" _

_'He's right. What _am _I doing?' __Hashirama wondered, somewhat frustrated with himself for his sudden hesitation, but then shook his head. "I'm doing you a favor."_

_"I don't need your favors!" Madara had growled spitefully. _

_"I'll end up killing you if you keep fighting like that." The Senju clan leader looked over the many wounds he'd inflicted on him, and the profuse bleeding Madara had seemed to been ignoring the entire time for the sake of battle. "You completely dropped all your defenses. You're being reckless." Madara laughed at him, a very hollow and disturbing sound._

_"So why are you hesitating? Why are you ruining it for yourself?" the Uchiha then derided him, almost accusatory, but definitely angry that Hashirama wasn't giving his all in this battle like he usually did in other ones_.

_"Because I don't want __to kill you." Madara fell into a stunned silence at those genuine words, gazing at Hashirama as if he'd seen him for the first time. He frowned mildly, an almost puzzled expression on his face._

_"You're a fool." he eventually snarled. _

_"You're in turmoil." Hashirama replied calmly. "I don't know what's going on, but I won't fight you when you're like this." The other narrowed his eyes suspiciously._

_"What do you get out of this?" _

_"Nothing. Is it so hard to believe I'd prefer to _not _kill other people?" Madara stayed silent for a few moments longer, and had then scowled deeply at him. His scrutinizing, intense gaze made Hashirama rather uncomfortable. He wondered what was going on in the head of that enigmatic man, whose red eyes almost looked like they were dissecting him, looking for something, searching for a certain... well, reaction on Hashirama's part, maybe? __The silence was almost agonizing. "You're not at a hundred percent. It would be an insult on my part if I faced you now." Madara's eyes widened slightly at this, as it was obviously not what he'd expected to hear._

_Then Madara smirked mildly at him, and for a mere second, Hashirama forgot where he was._

_"You're something else, Hashirama Senju." _

That sentence had haunted him for the following days as he'd wondered whether it had been a compliment or maybe a backhanded insult. But besides that, he'd also pondered what had happened to set Madara off like that; Hashirama had never seen him been that absolutely reckless in battle before. He'd gotten through to him in the end, but he was sure the issue wasn't just solved with just a little chit-chat.

He shouldn't have been _worrying _over his sworn _enemy _like this, the enemy clan leader no less – but he couldn't help himself. Something was terribly wrong with Madara Uchiha and it was affecting Hashirama more than he himself was aware. That fight had been a whole month ago, had also been their last battle, and he was _still _pondering about it every now and then.

So, he decided that he wanted to reach out. Reach out to the man who was so much like him, the man with the pained look in his eyes whenever a comrade of his fell, the man who couldn't want all this death any more than Hashirama wanted it. Reach out and let him know that he was not alone, even if it was so lonely at the top and the burden of leadership was even heavier than the mask on his face, Hashirama wanted to let him know that, yes, he understood, he understood and he wanted all of it to end.

"I really hope you know what you're doing." Tobirama whispered in his ear as they were standing in a wide, open valley; the meeting place, surrounded by temporary camps from both sides. Hashirama completely ignored his younger brother for once. This was important, more important than anything. Peace. Finally, _finally_, peace. He knew it was going to be tough at times, but at least there would be no more wars, no more needless slaughter, and both sides could finally be happy.

But the road leading up to this had been very tough on him. His messenger had nearly gotten killed the first time they'd tried to establish that they wanted to negotiate, and heavens had Madara been a tough man to negotiate with. But he'd been persuaded, Tobirama would say by Hashirama's "divine charisma", but persuaded nonetheless. The Senju leader had also enjoyed it, in a way. During the negotiations it had been the first time he'd had a friendly conversation with Madara, and even though the Uchiha leader hadn't seemed like he'd wanted to talk at all, he'd responded to him either way, and Hashirama had enjoyed that. Maybe a little more than he should've.

Shaking hands. Shaking hands to seal the deal. Hashirama had never contemplated the meaning of this simple gesture and what an impact it could have on one's mental state, until he tried shaking hands with Madara Uchiha. His face didn't show it, but he felt… anxious. He didn't know why, either. '_Just shake his hand. That's all there is to it. No big deal.' _His face didn't betray a thing, as he confidently (or so it seemed to everyone else present) stuck out his hand to Madara with a slight, friendly smile on his face. So, he tried reaching him, with a simple handshake. Wanting him to understand that from now on he'd be his friend.

Hashirama tried reaching him.

Madara's eyes were icy, his mask perfectly in place, but it betrayed the slightest trace of reluctance. Hashirama's anxiety skyrocketed as doubts began to fill his head, which disappeared momentarily when he finally saw the Uchiha's hand reaching out to his. Then he swore his heart stopped when for a second, for a mere second, the Uchiha's pale hand looked like it wanted to retreat, to forget about the deal, to pull back and reject him. But, eventually, the hand grabbed his own (Hashirama noticing he had a nice, firm grip, and his hand was also pleasantly warm) and shook on it. And Hashirama would've let out a sigh of relief, were it not for the fact that a cold realization hit him harder than anything had before, shattering his illusions of the great friendship he wanted to build with the Uchiha leader.

Madara did not want to be reached.

* * *

**This, ladies (and possibly gentlemen?), concludes the _Seasons Backstory arc_ of this story.**

**Now moving on to the _Flower arc_. You'll see why I call it that when I upload the next chapter ;)**

**Again, thank you for the super awesome reviews, they really help me write and bestow upon me the great gift of MOTIVATION!**

**Because that's ultimately what keeps a story going. MOTIVATION!**

**Nothing is healthier for a writer than MOTIVATION!**

**Yes! MOTIVA- okay, I'll stop...**

**See ya next time, hope you review again :D**


	5. Seeds

**Seeds**

So, Hashirama supposed a few months after the treaty had been signed, he'd just have to deal with the fact that any social interaction with Madara Uchiha had the potential to give him either an aneurysm or be one of the most interesting moments in his life.

The truce had been taken surprisingly well for both sides – or not so surprising, not for Hashirama at least. He'd seen that both sides had been tired and worn out, so this had just been the logical next step towards peace. Yet, the leader of the Uchiha clan didn't seem too happy with it. Hashirama hadn't noticed this until they'd actually had to meet again on a few different occasions. Of course he'd noticed that Madara did not seem too pleased to have "friendly" interactions with him, but he'd figured this was just caused by their past.

Naturally, he wouldn't come out and simply say it, but Hashirama had the feeling there was still great distrust among the two of them – well, it was more like it was mostly one-sided distrust, but it was still there nonetheless and it was actually quite irritating. So when the Fire Daimyō wished to hire them, and they were sitting in a room right next to each other while the Daimyō explained something about the borders of the Land of Fire needing to be stabilized, and then rambled on and on about whatever else there was to ramble about – such as how surprising the truce between the Uchiha and the Senju was – Hashirama just glanced once at the man sitting beside him. Only once, out of curiosity.

Madara's face would look completely blank to anyone else looking, but Hashirama could clearly see the irritation – his eyes just slightly narrowed and the barely visible, mild twitch of his right eyebrow when the Daimyō started praising the Senju for a battle they had won a few weeks ago. Hashirama smiled lightly, amused at Madara's expression, and swiftly looked away to the Daimyō when the red eyes shifted to look back at him. The smile never left his face. Hashirama noticed Madara narrowing his eyes a little more when he dared to shoot him another glance, and held back the urge to chuckle. He did not know why, but he felt very entertained by Madara's reaction to whatever he did or whatever the Daimyō ranted about.

Now back to this issue about the borders. They _had _been very unstable over the last few years, after all, and this was a serious matter.

"…a long-term problem. It can't be solved so easily." The Daimyō, not having noticed any of the small exchanges taking place, continued his dainty way of talking. "I think a more permanent settlement near the borders would be ideal."

Hashirama frowned mildly in contemplation about the suggestion, and Madara was obviously trying _not _to glare – which failed, by the way.

"A _permanent _settlement?" Madara repeated skeptically. To Hashirama, however, it made sense.

"Stabilizing the borders isn't going to be done with a mere few battles. It would be a lot more practical if we had a permanent base of operations, so to speak."

"So what would you suggest? Building a village?" Madara scoffed. The Daimyō, however, thought about this "idea" for a moment.

"A village of shinobi, stabilizing the borders… and why not?" the man decided, leaving Hashirama to once again to be entertained by the minute look of bafflement on Madara's face, that disappeared right after he caught a glimpse of it. "As far as I'm concerned, both of your clans practically live in my country anyway."

"And your idea is to haul us all into one village?" Madara voiced with derision. "With all due respect," he said in a tone that really meant "_you can kiss my ass_", and continued with, "the chances of that working are… slim."

"I don't expect there to be certain conflicts, especially considering your past, but it's the most efficient way of keeping the country safe. You're intelligent enough to figure out a way to cooperate. I'll let you decide the location and the details, of course."

In the end, the Daimyō got his way, and Madara, albeit grudgingly, agreed to it. Hashirama noticed a suspicious glance being cast his way, but he largely ignored it. This _would _mean that they were going to have to interact a whole lot more than they usually did, which for Hashirama was very good and possibly bad at the same time. Very good because this would allow them to improve their relationship, and possibly bad considering Madara had somehow been born with the nasty ability of being able to give people a migraine just by the stress caused by one simple sentence if he so wished. Luckily, he didn't use that ability, _yet_.

As the Uchiha clan leader left the room after saying a sort of goodbye to the Daimyō, Hashirama followed suit – though his goodbye was a lot more polite – before walking after Madara who seemed all too eager to get away, walking down the broad hallway as he continued towards his room. Of course the Daimyō had arranged a room for both of them – on the opposite ends of the almost criminally large castle the Daimyō usually stayed in – but only for a night or two. Hashirama decided he wanted to talk to him. He didn't know exactly why; he supposed it would be beneficial for the alliance, but he also simply... _wanted _to. Very badly. Madara intrigued him, and he wanted to get to know him better. Hashirama briefly considered if he should simply tap the Uchiha on the shoulder as he did with most other people to get their attention in the rare case they didn't notice him, but then realized he'd have a kunai to his throat faster than he'd be able to blink.

"Madara Uchiha," Hashirama said instead, his voice purposefully loud as it resonated against the thick walls of the corridor, "could we speak?" The man slowly stopped, and turned around, a scowl on his face. Hashirama was momentarily distracted by his footsteps who were ever so quiet and swift, not wasting a single movement; evidence to his intense training as a shinobi – making the Senju vaguely wonder what it was about this man that even such a simple action as _walking _was enough to captivate him. Then his eyes slid up to the Uchiha's face again.

"And now we're speaking." Madara confirmed wryly. Hashirama suppressed an amused smile, wary that Madara might take it the wrong way and think he was being mocked, and kept a straight face. "What is it that you want?"

He hadn't thought of that yet, which surprised him. He wasn't one to do just _do _things without thinking them through, and yet he'd went off on a sudden, inexplicable urge – though he wasn't going to let his rival notice this, and kept a calm demeanor.

"Is a friendly chat too much to ask for?" the Senju tried instead with a then friendly smile gracing his lips.

"A friendly chat?" Madara repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he alertly watched the Senju take about two steps more towards him. "I've no interest in such tedious social obligations." Hashirama frowned slightly at this and folded his arms over his chest.

"I didn't ask because it was an obligation, but because I wanted to." he corrected Madara, who almost seemed to want to roll his eyes at him. "I figured it would be a good idea to get to know each other better, if we're going to work together more closely from now on." This was the truth, albeit only half the truth. The other half was more complicated, but no doubt the Uchiha would take it the wrong way if he just came out and said, "I find you very interesting". Also, it wasn't exactly something you just tactlessly blurted out anyway. Madara narrowed his eyes slightly, but then his lips twitched momentarily, almost as if he was trying to decide whether or not to smirk mockingly at his rival.

"A nice sentiment. But you seem to be forgetting that we already _do _know each other." Hashirama understood what he meant, but disagreed.

"There's more to a person than the way they fight." he pointed out.

"Is there?" Madara responded languidly as he tore his gaze away from the other man and walked over to one of the large windows across him, leaning his hands on the windowsill as he stared outside with a distant look on his face. Hashirama idly wondered what he was thinking about as the seconds ticked by and the silence remained, until Madara voiced his thoughts for him. "I've seen you at your worst, and at your best. I've heard you shout in joy, scream in rage and groan in agony – I've seen you mourn, I've seen you kill; I know exactly what you are capable of, what you would do, what you couldn't do, and what your moral boundaries are." There was another silence as a somewhat stunned Hashirama took in these words. Madara turned his head to meet his eyes once again. "Is that not knowing a person, Hashirama Senju?" He slowly shook his head at this, and carefully stood a few feet next to Madara, staring out the window next to his. The red eyes were still on him.

"Do you know my favorite color?" Hashirama then asked in a completely serious voice. Two black eyebrows rose, puzzled by the sudden question. "My favorite food? What I do first when I get up in the morning?" Hashirama's eyes shifted their point of focus from the outside world to a slightly confused and frowning Madara. "My ideals? My dreams? My mannerisms? My habits?" Madara was silent in frustrated understanding now, his eyes glaring out his window once again.

"No." he said coolly. "Do I need to in order for our mission to work?" he then shot his question back as a retaliation while glowering at a poor tree outside, Hashirama barely picking up the scorn in his voice.

"Maybe you don't. But what's the harm in knowing?" the Senju responded evenly. Madara frowned somewhat defiantly at this.

"And what if I don't want to?"

"I won't force you, of course. It was merely a suggestion." Hashirama stated matter-of-factly. For a moment, he was distracted and again – like he had been so many times before – captivated by how the sunlight reflected into those red eyes, giving them a much deeper, richer color of red, and found this color to be much more to his liking. But, he still wondered what Madara's regular eyes looked like, as he'd never seen him without the Sharingan activated before. Most Uchiha had very dark eyes, like Hashirama had, and yet he knew with certainty the passion in them would be the same – no matter the color. He shook his head lightly at his own vain thoughts, wondering how they'd drifted off to think about something as trivial as that. "If you know of my moral boundaries, you should also be aware of the fact that I would never stab an ally in the back." he remarked with an air of nonchalance.

The atmosphere around them suddenly turned tense with that one statement, and yet, Hashirama felt like this needed to be addressed before it became a serious issue. Madara, previously leaning with his hands on the windowsill, straightened his back immediately, staring at Hashirama with a slightly frustrated expression before he responded.

"I wouldn't know that without a doubt." he then scoffed. "After all, I don't even know your favorite color." he continued, his tone holding a hint of sharp irritation in it. Hashirama was silent, realizing that winning this man's trust was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd initially anticipated.

"But you do trust me to an extent, or you wouldn't have agreed to the treaty."

"It wasn't like I had a choice." the other scoffed at his statement. Hashirama blinked once, eyes narrowing slightly. This was not something he'd expected.

"Come again?" he asked as politely as possible. Madara frowned at him, and sighed, somewhat frustrated.

"My _clan _wanted it. They think it's for the best, and I trust them on that. Not _you_, Hashirama. Them." Madara clarified impatiently, crossing his arms across his chest. Hashirama looked away, staring down at the windowsill in contemplation. He supposed he should've seen that coming, although it was disappointing. But, he supposed optimistically, as long as the treaty still stood, he had the time and the opportunity to gain Madara's trust anyhow. He realized a lifetime of bloody war couldn't be erased nor forgotten, but it _could_ be forgiven. Now he just had to hope his natural charisma would help him out somehow.

The silence, he noticed, had turned uncomfortable, and he felt the need to break it with a trivial remark.

"It's red, by the way. My favorite color."

Only when the words had actually left his mouth did Hashirama realize that this, in fact, only made the situation even more awkward. He tried not to think about the cause nor implication of this as it would only serve to make him feel… uneasy. No doubt a man as astute as Madara would easily figure out what this meant, as Hashirama hadn't exactly been subtle at times with his staring. He then wondered why he'd let that slip. Either way, it had cracked the ice somewhat, and it was still better than outright saying, "I think you have beautiful eyes".

_'Beautiful?' _That was... that was definitely something you said about a _woman_. That was not something you could say about another _man_. Well, you could, but it would earn you some strange looks. But, there was nothing wrong with finding something beautiful, was there? He hadn't meant it in an effeminate way – not the kind of beautiful you'd use when describing a dress or a woman's hair. He'd meant the kind of beautiful you'd use to describe the sunrise or a waterfall; breath-taking, perhaps, was a better word. Besides, it had just been a thought.

His own, private thought. Certainly not for Madara to hear.

And yet he wished the Uchiha _could_ hear it so he could finally get it off his chest. But maybe he had. Maybe that tiny, splinter of an admission about his favorite color had been enough. Then again, he'd never know as he could never exactly tell what Madara was thinking in the first place.

It was Madara's turn to be quiet for a moment, staring at Hashirama with an expression in his eyes that even the ever so insightful Senju couldn't read for once. Curiosity? Confusion? When Hashirama stared back, almost questioningly and waiting for a response, Madara looked back out the window again, his mask perfectly in place. Hashirama felt the urge to break it with a sledgehammer, but it was much too soon – never mind the fact that he had no idea _how_.

"Of course it is." the Uchiha then replied aloofly with a hint of arrogance in his tone, though for a moment there, Hashirama thought he'd actually caught him jesting, but then dismissed that thought as an improbability. The day he saw Madara Uchiha jest would most likely not be today.

They then both were comfortable enough to stare outside in silence. It was fine like this. Neither had anything more to say, and just watched as the sun dipped down behind the mountains miles away, the many warm colors of the sky fading away together with the sun's departure, leaving only the darkness which was slightly illuminated by the stars, in its wake. There was no moon that night. It felt nice, Hashirama decided contently. He was still a long ways from calling Madara a friend, but they were getting there – and that made him happy. He found him to be unique company, the only other person besides Tobirama to voice his thoughts about him so willingly. Who would've thought those two young boys that had been fighting each other so fiercely years ago would end up standing side by side as allies?

Hashirama then smiled at him after a while, realizing he'd accomplished his initial goal after he'd reminisced enough. "I won't keep you any longer then, Madara Uchiha. It was nice having a friendly chat, don't you think?" he said and he briefly caught a glimpse of Madara's mildly flustered expression which disappeared as soon as it came. Then with a slight nod, the Senju turned his back on him and started walking away to his own room, utterly amused for the rest of the evening.

Madara was left behind, and felt absolutely cheated.

* * *

**An explanation here, about the creation of Konoha - I really did look it up and I swear to god this is the canon version of how it happened, perhaps minus the entire conversation, but yeah. I found it kind of weird, ya know, but apparently this is it. Stabilizing the borders led to the building of an entire village. **

**Kind of odd, but oh well :P**

**The next chapter will focus on Madara's perspective, and also an important part regarding Izuna, and then back to a little more of Hashirama.**

**Once again, thank you for your great and awesome reviews. So here you have a very special update, since it's also my birthday today, so I hope you enjoyed reading it :)**

**More reviews are always appreciated. As a birthday present, perhaps? Hehe :P**


	6. Growing

**Growing**

He wanted to cringe and turn away. Every time he saw his younger brother, a tidal wave of guilt threatened to drown him. It was painful, agonizing to the very core, and he should never be forgiven – and yet the younger brother_ kept smiling_.

Why was he smiling?

Madara looked down at Izuna, who was sitting outside against a tree, hiding in the shadow it provided from the almost scorching sun. As he approached, Izuna turned his face in his general direction, his arms crossed over his newly bandaged chest as he seemed to be simply relaxing and enjoying the quiet for once. He couldn't see, of course. A white blindfold covered his eyes, and Madara nearly wanted to tear his gaze away from his face and look away all together. He had nightmares because of what he'd done, and it was _always _in the back of his mind, eating away at him slowly but surely.

"You're back." Izuna greeted him with a smile.

'_Stop smiling. There's nothing to smile about.' _Madara thought and wanted to snap at him, but managed to keep his cool and remained silent as he stared down at his younger brother's form. "How did you know it was me?" he questioned instead, a mild frown on his face.

"The rhythm in your pace." Izuna responded pleasantly. "That, and you're the only one who approaches me without being vocal." There was another silence. "Come sit down for a while. You work too much." The younger patted the spot next to him. Madara almost wanted to shake his head out of habit, but then voiced his decision.

"I'm fine with standing."

"Why? So you can look down at me in pity and beat yourself up over it some more?" Izuna suddenly said rather harshly, turning his head back down, lowered as he faced his brother's knees. "I can hear it in your voice." Izuna added softly. Madara's scowl deepened. He opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. For once, he was speechless. He sighed and closed his mouth again before he started looking like a gaping fish. "It was my offer to make and you accepted it. At least, that's what I _thought_. Instead you've been practically avoiding me ever since then."

Just a few months.

That was much too short a time to start talking about this.

"I'm not avoiding you." Madara almost snapped at him in his own defense. "If I wanted to avoid you, you wouldn't have heard from me, not even once."

"You know that's not what I meant." Izuna said with a sigh, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "You've been so distant lately. It's almost like we're growing apart." Madara's eyes widened slightly, another pang of guilt shooting through his chest. But how could he _not _be distant? He'd been irredeemably selfish, sacrificing his own _brother _just so he could have it better. So maybe you could argue he'd been desperate and frightened by the darkness and he would've done anything to get his sight back at that point, maybe you could argue it was for the sake of the clan – but that did not justify it in the least. He'd practically given a death sentence to the person he cared about the most in this world and had vowed to protect. How could you just get over something like that? Older brothers were supposed to look after their younger siblings, _not _the other way around.

Now, looking at Izuna who was getting more and more injuries with every battle he insisted on having despite his handicap, it was only a matter of time before –

Madara felt a stinging pain in his palms, and vaguely realized he'd dug his nails into them.

He would never forgive himself for it. He didn't _want _to be forgiven for it either.

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Madara decided with a growl, and turned around, about to walk away when Izuna grabbed his arm and prevented him from leaving.

"If not now, then _when_?!"

"We don't need to-"

"No_._ We _do_." Izuna slowly got to his feet, his injured body now turned towards Madara who was still debating whether to jerk free of his grip and continue on his "merry" way or stay and hear what Izuna had to say. "Now listen to me and stop trying to be some sort of martyr. I _gave _you those eyes. It was my choice, and I don't regret it in the least bit, so you shouldn't either. If I can be happy with this, why can't you?" Madara looked away, not being able to stand looking at his sibling for a moment longer. A few seconds ticked by, and then Madara let out a deep sigh, Izuna still holding onto his arm, almost clinging to it like he'd used to do when they'd been small children – and that only made the feeling of guilt worse. The older brother closed his eyes for a moment.

"I failed you." he spoke quietly but with a clear voice, a stinging pain in his chest just by admitting the thought that had haunted him for so long now. He felt Izuna's grip slacken for a moment, probably in surprise. It was very rare, even to his own brother, that he'd open his heart up like this. "I failed you, Izuna."

"Brother-"

"No, I did. Just look at you." Madara interrupted him coldly before he could say another word. "_I_ was supposed to look after _you_, not the other way around, and yet you still ended up being the one looking after me. I can't forgive myself for that." Izuna was silent for a moment, before he shook his head. His older brother always took too much weight on his shoulders. He'd attempted to alleviate it by sacrificing himself, but it seemed it had only burdened him more. But how could he not have helped him?

Seeing such a proud, powerful man lying down helplessly in bed, bound and depending on others – it was horribly out of place. It was like witnessing the creeping shadow of decay casting its darkness over a beautiful, all-consuming fire. The fire had dimmed, flickered and had grown smaller and smaller until there had been nothing left but a flame to stand against the darkness, until Izuna had added to that flame his own bright torch, making the blaze grow stronger than ever. Madara was destined for great things; Izuna had always known that. The older one would, like he himself had always said, drag their clan to glory. With that in mind, Izuna couldn't let everything be destroyed in such an instant as the blindness would've annihilated everything Madara had fought for and had stood for, and Madara had accepted his eyes in the end.

But despite that, everything was falling apart, and the fire flickered dangerously with every guilt-ridden look Izuna saw in his brother's eyes.

"It's not a one-way-street. We look out for _each other_. Stop trying to do everything on your own." Izuna finally released his hold on Madara's arm. "To be honest, that's rather insulting. Just because I'm the youngest doesn't mean you get to do all the fun stuff." he scoffed, folding his arms with a mild smirk, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I assure you that I'm not having any fun." Madara responded, obviously not in the mood for any jokes, making Izuna's smirk disappear. He felt Izuna's hand on his arm again, but then it crept up, squeezing his shoulder instead.

"Let it go, please." the younger Uchiha requested wearily. "If not for your own sake then for mine." Madara stayed silent, but Izuna figured that was as good an answer as any his brother could give at the moment. "Come on, let's sit." For once, the older one complied, sitting next to Izuna on the grass in the shadow of the tree, not saying anything for a few minutes as they enjoyed the soft breeze that blew in their faces. For his younger brother's sake, for just this once, Madara settled on staring at the sunlight reflecting on the tranquil lake a few feet on their left, with a mother duck leading her young ones through the water while the ducklings stayed close to her so they wouldn't get lost.

One tiny duckling wandered off from his siblings, led astray by a sudden rippling in the water, and Madara averted his gaze, closing his eyes instead – and even though he was unable to fully enjoy it, it was better than the guilt.

And even though that conversation wasn't enough to solve all the turmoil going on inside his head, that day was the most peaceful one Madara had known in a long time and would know for the rest of that month.

* * *

A week or so passed, and he found himself standing next to Hashirama Senju on a high spot on top of a cliff, overlooking a wide forest with a large and wide mountain range in the north towering over most of it. The forest was thick, the trees were high and seemed sturdy, and the general area had an aura of peacefulness and tranquility about it. Tobirama Senju was a few feet back, no doubt scowling at him. _'Though it's not like I actually want to be here.' _Madara thought to himself, crossing his arms as he evaluated the spot to be their permanent settlement, while clansmen from both sides kept an eye on each other behind both of their backs.

He refused calling it a village. A village implied it held a home; somewhere safe with people you could trust. Madara glanced sideways to the Senju next to him. The very notion of trusting this man whom he'd tried to kill, and who had tried to kill him on numerous occasions, was completely laughable. He was going to look out for his own clan; the Uchiha did not fit in that picture. So Madara could only imagine two scenario's happen in the future if he was ever gullible and foolish enough to trust him: either his clan was destroyed, or made subservient to the Senju.

Neither of those two scenarios were particularly appealing.

_"…you should also be aware of the fact that I would never stab an ally in the back." _

Had he meant it? It'd certainly seemed like it, and of course Madara had never actually witnessed _him_ betray anyone, but could the same be said about the people in his clan? Just like how he'd been forced by his own to sign the treaty, Hashirama could be forced to break it if his clan really wished it. Madara shot an aloof glance at Tobirama, who was eyeing him with a slight scowl, seemed to be deep in thought about something that probably concerned him. The Uchiha leader looked away eventually, looking right back at Hashirama who'd said something to his subordinate – though Madara hadn't been paying attention.

So Hashirama, he concluded, was most likely a man of his word. He'd given Madara no reason to think otherwise.

But what about the rest of his clan?

No, Madara could not trust _them_. Him, maybe, but not them.

See, he'd like to think of himself as a reasonable man. If you did not give him reasons to distrust you, he wouldn't. Of course the fact remained that the reasons for distrusting someone could be the smallest in the world and Madara would gladly jump right on it, but he was pretty sure he was more than acquainted enough with the Senju clan to know that they couldn't be trusted. Hashirama happened to be the exception to that rule, and even_ then_ he didn't fully trust him yet. He was a clan leader with responsibilities. Yes, of course, Hashirama Senju was a responsible and honorable man. If he hadn't been Madara wouldn't have ever bothered with him in the first place.

By now his contemplative glance towards the Senju had turned into an observant stare as he looked his rival over, though he couldn't tell himself why. Madara already knew every inch and detail of his face, so staring was absolutely pointless, and yet he was oddly intrigued. His gaze slid over the tanned skin, thin lips, strong jawline, and then he noticed a leaf stuck in Hashirama's dark hair. Not odd since it was windy and if you had long hair things tended to get stuck in it every now and then. For a split-second, however, just a mere moment that was over before he even knew what had happened, he wanted to reach out his hand and pluck it out, as it was disturbing him to see it there.

"Something the matter?" Hashirama was looking back at him now, eyebrows mildly raised. Madara's gaze casually shifted back to the forest below them, expertly hiding the slightly startled look in his eyes.

"No." he replied coolly, which was a blatant lie. _'That was odd.' _he thought with a frown. He vaguely wondered if the lack of sleep the past few nights had done something to his head. He decided to try and not think too much about things as he was too tired for it anyway, what with the constant nightmares that had been haunting him for some time now. He couldn't deny that Hashirama… well, _intrigued_ him, but this seemed like it was going to cross the line if he didn't stop being so intently focused on him.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" Hashirama said contently, looking out over the wide area again. Madara narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing on the mountain range in the north so he wouldn't end up staring at the Senju again. He decided he was too weary for any decent social interactions.

"It'll do." he answered monotonously. He heard Hashirama sigh, almost sounding a little drained.

"What will it take to please you for once?"

"Perfection." Madara replied without missing a beat, and this time he couldn't help but look at Hashirama who was smiling mildly at him. The leaf was still there, like a black dot staining an otherwise _perfect_ canvas.

And right then and there, after that sudden thought that had struck him like a bolt of lightning from the raging skies of his mind, he realized in an instant that for once in his life he could not find a feature he disliked or found flawed on this painting (excluding the black dot which was only a minor irregularity). It was a masterpiece, something he could stare at for days, even after having seen it for so many times because it didn't wither away like everything else did. It was always there, ready to smile or frown with an ever-steady gaze, and the only certainty Madara had had in his life. No one else looked him in the eyes like that. He'd always been there – both as an enemy, and as an ally.

He'd found perfection, and it was staring him right in the eyes, and it had been staring him in the eyes for years. Always – undaunted and calm, with a hint of kindness. Just a little bit of gentleness, which the Senju leader otherwise regularly showed other people – but was always wary to show Madara. Not too much of it, anyhow. Because both of them knew that that kindness was, at this point, too soon to introduce; it would be seen as a weakness, and it would be looked down upon. Not by Hashirama, no, but by Madara, certainly.

This sudden change in perspective was so sudden, so _shocking _and _absurd _to him that he couldn't help but push it away. It was utterly ridiculous, it was unfathomable, it was so many words that couldn't come to mind at the moment because of his bewilderment, and it had to be insane, because it was simply common sense – _you didn't admire your former enemy's face like that.  
_

_Former _enemy, though. With the emphasis on former. Not current.

Did that make it tolerable?

No. No, if anything, that just made it worse. He didn't _need _this right now, he didn't want this entirety of exchanges between them, this odd rivalry, to suddenly turn awkward because his temporary madness that had been caused by his lack of sleep. It had to be his lack of sleep. Any other reasoning, anything else was simply not acceptable, and he would _fight _this feeling of _insane_ admiration and wonderment to the very end.

"You know that's impossible." the Senju leader then responded with a glint of amusement in his eyes, drawing Madara's attention back to the present. He had not noticed the turmoil of emotions raging within him. Of course he hadn't, because Madara's bewildered face wore the same expression as his calm face did; in simple terms, it did not exist. He did not show bewilderment or conflict. _  
_

"Then I suppose I'll never be pleased, will I?" Hashirama's gentle smile faded away, replaced by a slight frown, as if he were pondering over something.

That _stupid _leaf was still stuck in his hair, but it frustrated him even more that he couldn't say why it was annoying and distracting him to that extent, even after all the mental gymnastics that had just occurred a mere few seconds ago. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

It was simply… in the way.

"You look tired." Hashirama remarked eventually, looking him over, which made Madara feel uneasy.

"It's of no business to you." Madara responded sharply, glaring at him.

"It is." the man disagreed. "We're allies now and supposed to be working together, or did that fact slip your mind?"

"If it had, you wouldn't be chatting my head off right now." the other huffed, now openly glaring at the leaf in the Senju's hair, as if hoping it would just burst into flames and disappear. Hashirama noticed this.

"What are you looking at?" he asked somewhat confused, and put a hand through his hair. He felt the leaf and plucked it out. "Ah. A leaf." He then blinked, looked from the forest back to the leaf, and his eyes widened slightly as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Konoha." he muttered.

"What?" Madara said confused, frowning at him for a moment. Hashirama looked at him, then glanced back at the leaf and that was all it took for the Uchiha to get his grip. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it surprised him that they were already at a point where words were not necessary to convey thoughts – but he shook it off quickly. There was a momentary pause as he thought about it.

"Konohagakure." Madara corrected him eventually.

"You agree?" Hashirama said surprised, earning him an irritated sigh.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Besides, there's a difference."

"Barely." Hashirama replied, seeming to be pleased. "May I ask, the reason behind this sudden accord?" They'd been thinking about a name for a while now, but hadn't been able to agree on anything. To think an utterly trivial occurrence would change that – and only because of Madara's inexplicable irritation for it – was almost comical.

"It's fitting." the Uchiha eventually replied, staring down at the forest.

"No qualms with it whatsoever?"

"Do you_ want _me to disagree with you? Because I can do that as well. In fact, it'll be my pleasure." When he looked back at the Senju, he noticed he was the one now being stared at. Hashirama was smiling slightly, but it disappeared when they locked eyes. For the quick moment that happened, Madara completely tensed. In the past, locking eyes with him had always, _always _been followed by a battle, so much so that his body was now automatically expecting one whenever this happened. And yet, this kind of tension had a different feel to it as well. It was much more unnerving to him, as the anticipation for combat in his chest had been replaced by an odd sensation that for a second prevented him to breathe normally.

And suddenly he was aware of how close they were standing next to each other.

But the moment passed sooner than it had come, so fast that it left Madara wondering if it had actually even happened, and before he knew it they were both back to looking over the forest below them, though the Uchiha had shifted a little further away, abruptly feeling very self-aware and uncomfortable standing so close to Hashirama that their arms almost brushed against each other. And so he took his distance.

Madara dismissed this little event entirely, but he'd failed to notice that Hashirama had tensed for a moment as well. While Madara blamed it on his lack of sleep and chose to ignore it, whatever "it" was, Hashirama was in a lot more confusion and unable to push it away.

He stayed tense for the rest of that afternoon as he stayed with Madara to discuss some more plans concerning the village ("_Settlement_." Madara would correct him every time, though the Senju would just ignore it), and this did not go unnoticed. Madara would've said something, were it that he didn't particularly want to know the reason behind it.

Or so he'd claim.

And at the end of the day, Madara realized that for the entirety he'd been with Hashirama, Izuna – and the nightmares, and the frustration, and the guilt – hadn't crossed his mind even once.

* * *

**Yeah, so about the eyes thing, I checked the Databook scan of Izuna's page on the internet and it quite clearly says he offered up his eyes, and so I'm going with that. Keeping it canon. **

**_For now_.**

**Thanks to all the awesome people who were awesome enough to review, also thanks to anyone who fave'd and is following this story, and you'd do me a great favor to review (again), and ya know, fuel my... motivation. Hihi :P**

**See ya next time!**


	7. Buds

**Buds**

A month passed.

Things had been going great, for as far as they could go great. Konohagakure had finally taken shape, courtesy of Hashirama Senju's Mokuton. The alliance between the Uchiha and the Senju had expanded and started to include other clans – some the Uchiha had conquered, some the Senju made a pact with, which meant Konohagakure would have to expand as well. Not everything was fine and dandy, however. For one, Madara Uchiha was not one to pay much attention to how his body reacted to certain things nor was he much conscious of his own feelings as he figured they were a nuisance, but Hashirama was much more self-aware. He had noticed that ever since that damned day on the cliff he couldn't be at ease at all when the Uchiha was around. It wasn't like he'd exactly felt entirely at ease before, but this was full-on tension with no moment of rest. Even when he _wasn't_ around, his thoughts drifted off enough to make Hashirama wonder if Tobirama wasn't onto something when he sometimes complained about his older brother being "obsessed" with Madara.

An example.

Who could've thought a visit to a dango shop could turn out to be life-threatening?

More specifically, enough to almost give him a heart-attack.

Hashirama had been taking a break from his usual duties – which today had consisted of talking to the Nara clan leader in regards to the forest on the outskirts of Konohagakure which they'd demanded to claim, making sure his Mokuton had been sufficient enough so the buildings didn't randomly collapse, and dealing with an annoying younger brother – when he'd run into Madara. He decided to walk with him, which the Uchiha didn't really respond to, and figure out what it was about that man that made him so _conflicted_. One moment he was perfectly relaxed, but the slightest movement or expression from Madara could set him off and make him completely uncomfortable in just a mere moment.

"Oh? Don't you have to run around and play nice with other clan leaders?" Madara said – _almost _sneered – when Hashirama suggested going for a walk, while raising his eyebrows as if the very notion was ridiculous.

"I just had my fill for today." Hashirama responded with a sigh, rolling his shoulders. He felt stiff, and wasn't sleeping right lately. He glanced at Madara. _'All his fault.' _he thought with a frown. He didn't even know why he'd think of the pale man during the night – half the time it would be something completely trivial anyway. "Don't you have to run around and challenge every other clan leader for a "spar"?"

"I could do that, but then again, they wouldn't be much of a challenge." Madara snorted. "You'd make for a much better opponent." Hashirama was little startled at first. Was that a compliment? Of course, he hadn't stated it like a compliment. Everything Madara said that wasn't some disparaging remark or sardonic sneer was usually stated as if it were a fact, even when it wasn't. Oddly enough that made him a lot more pleased than it should've had he'd heard it from anyone else. Then again, this was his biggest rival who'd just acknowledged him. It was only natural he would be pleased about that, right? He couldn't do anything but smile at the Uchiha, who scowled at him, as he didn't know how else to respond to it. "What?"

"My brother did say the day you'd give me a compliment would be the day the world would come to an end." Hashirama responded entertained, as he looked up to the heavens. White, puffy clouds blocked the sun every now and then, but otherwise the sky was mostly blue like it often was in the Land of Fire. "I'm expecting meteors to come raining down from the sky any moment now."

Why was he suddenly in such a good mood when just a minute ago he'd felt tired and annoyed?

"I didn't realize you were a jester." Madara scoffed at him, unappreciative of his sense of humor. Then again, the Uchiha was almost always unsusceptible to any attempt Hashirama made to lighten the mood.

"It runs in the family." he replied honestly, ignoring the sardonic look. The red eyes glanced at a child across the street who was causing a scene with his mother, a brief flash of annoyance crossing his features, before the expression on his face turned contemplative.

"Though, that ability does sound like it would come in handy." Hashirama chuckled at the dry comment.

"Of course. You'd bring death to our enemies by showering them in compliments." he said, and caught a glimpse of an amused smile on Madara's face – his heart skipped a beat, and all feelings of anxiety and weariness that had built up inside him for the past month were washed away instantly, and he was already smiling back like a complete idiot.

Then he stiffened and abruptly stopped walking.

That was _not _a normal reaction to just a mere smile.

'_What is wrong with me lately?' _

Madara stopped just a second later, turned to face him and quirked an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms while he did so. "Something the matter?"

"No, I was…." Hashirama glanced around, pretending to be preoccupied with his thoughts to hide his anxiety, and saw a small, newly-built dango shop on his left. "I was just hungry. Care to join me?" Madara was silent for a moment, considering it carefully, then nodded once. When they walked in, of course, all heads turned into to their direction.

'_I'm overreacting. That's what's happening, I'm just overreacting.' _Hashirama told himself sternly. _'It's the lack of sleep – and he's such an intense person my mood gets affected by it.' _Now, however, he was just making up excuses, and he knew he was making excuses, but with all this weight on his shoulders he had no time to spare for himself and his inner conflict about something so trivial. Or so he told himself that it was trivial, but he was comfortable enough just ignoring it – for now.

A friendly-looking, petite girl – a Sarutobi; Hashirama vaguely recognized her face but couldn't remember her name – that worked at the shop took their order of food while pleasantly inquiring about the progress in the village. "It's going better than expected." Hashirama told her politely, and she nodded with a warm smile. She only once glanced in Madara's direction, but seemed to be a little intimidated by his perfectly expressionless face and the way he carried himself – so she only smiled slightly, out of politeness, and immediately turned back towards Hashirama, who had always had the gift of making feel even complete strangers entirely comfortable in his presence.

"Oh, well, that's certainly good news. But you should be careful not to overexert yourself." she said with genuine concern. It was obvious she was rather enamored by him.

"I'll try not to, but thanks for your concern." Hashirama replied with a kind smile, and the girl blinked, looking slightly dazed. He then noticed Madara shooting him an unreadable glance from the corners of his eyes, and promptly glanced back questioningly. Madara's eyes shifted to the girl who then made some sort of mundane remark about how tired the Senju leader looked. Hashirama frowned slightly at the knowing look in Madara's eyes, wondering what his problem was with the girl. This conversation through looks – something only maybe the closest of friends or married couples did – felt so natural neither of them even stopped to think about how strange it was they'd already arrived at that point.

"Do you do that often?" he asked Hashirama in a seemingly casual manner when the girl excused herself as they were sitting at their table. At the silence and puzzled look on Hashirama's part Madara clarified his previous question. "Flirting with random women?" He seemed irritated.

"I wasn't flirting." Hashirama responded concisely. Madara raised an eyebrow, not persuaded. "I _wasn't_. I was merely being polite." he emphasized, now also irritated at Madara's irritation. He didn't just _flirt_ with every other woman who talked to him. In fact, he didn't flirt, period. The subtlety involving the act seemed just too tedious to him, and he preferred simply being straight-forward. He didn't really have much experience in love; for one, in the past there hadn't been much time for it, and two, he'd never really found anyone that had been "special" to him in that way. No one that really interested him.

"I'm sure _she _didn't see it that way." the man across him replied eventually, making Hashirama wonder where all of this suddenly had come from.

"That's none of my concern." he replied starkly, wanting to end the conversation about his non-existent love life already. Madara, however, had found something amusing to latch on to and was not about to leave him alone if that smug grin told him anything. It was almost like he was celebrating that he'd found a weak point in Hashirama's otherwise composed demeanor.

"Oh? No need to be so defensive."

"I'm not defensive," Hashirama said, avoiding the inquisitive gaze being thrown his way. "I'm simply not interested in such matters." Madara, for whatever it was worth, seemed genuinely surprised. The Senju had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes and keep his composure, or whatever was left of it. "Do you take me for a philanderer?" Whatever light-heartedness in the atmosphere then disappeared as Madara's expression dulled and turned blank like it usually was.

"Of course not, but does your clan not expect you to marry at some point?" he said in an almost business-like manner, making Hashirama sigh.

"They may expect whatever they wish – for now, the village takes precedence. It wouldn't be the first time a clan leader failed to marry."

"But usually that's due to causes such as death or, well, being replaced." He was starting to sound like Tobirama, who'd often tease him for his lack of contact with women. Hashirama wasn't sure what his brother would say if he told him it turned out he and Madara agreed on something – but he guessed there would be a lot of glaring and hostile rebuttals involved.

"I have time." Hashirama replied simply, and despite the obvious signals that he really wished to move on to another topic, Madara kept pressing on. Whether to vex him or because of genuine curiosity, both options seemed equally annoying.

"Why aren't you interested?"

"There's been no woman to catch my interest."

"Not even in your younger years?"

"No."

"What of men, then?" He'd lowered his voice, of course, but still somehow managed to come off as completely nonchalant. This sort of topic wasn't something you often discussed in polite company, but Madara could hardly be qualified as "polite" company anyway. Nonetheless, it wasn't that strange of a concept – even if Hashirama was at a complete loss for words at the moment – since such affairs happened more often than you'd think.

The Senju clan was a little more open about it than most other clans, but it still would turn into a scandal if seen in public. It was the kind of taboo you could talk about to your friends or family, but never mention on other social occasions. In the Senju clan, at least, it wasn't odd to see two men walking out of a party or whatnot to look for a more private place, and it was mostly ignored. Of course people in high positions within the clan generally weren't allowed to do any such things – but this had more to do with dignity and less with sexuality. As long as you kept your affairs private, whether it be with a man or a woman, there were no issues.

Needless to say, Hashirama had _never _looked at another man in his clan that way. He'd never even looked at another _woman_ that way – his ideals and hard work had always shoved aside whatever desires he might've had at the time. Every time Tobirama had pestered him about getting a wife or one of his advisors had nagged at him about it, he'd promptly ignored them. Of course if he were to get together with _anyone _it had to be a woman – to produce children, who'd possibly to take over his position if he were to grow too old or if something were to happen to him, and more importantly, to perhaps pass on his invaluable Kekkei Genkai. He himself had never thought about it much, though he knew it was expected of him; but it seemed like such a trivial thing he'd chosen to ignore it. There was no one he knew he could imagine sharing his life with–

'_Why not him?' _he wondered idly as he stared at Madara who was still waiting for an answer.

When he realized what had just crossed his mind he could swear for a moment his heart stopped and he felt like he deserved to get hit in the face.

Everyone gets those ridiculous thoughts every now and then. Most of the time you can't help whatever your brain throws at you on impulse, and in the end you're either banging your head against the wall from the sheer stupidity of the thought or you're so embarrassed you can't even look at yourself in the mirror and wonder what kind of mental defects you might have that could produce such a moronic notion in the first place.

Right now, Hashirama was doing the latter.

"No, absolutely not!" he exclaimed hastily, losing his cool for just a moment. "Whatever gave you that idea?" Had he been a lesser man he would've stumbled and stuttered his words like a complete klutz, but that didn't change the fact that he was in a state of panic. Madara would've had to been blind _and _deaf not to notice the complete discomfort. As such, two black eyebrows were arched, and the red eyes cast a look that had a mixture of curiosity and bemusement.

"Ah. I suppose that explains it." the Uchiha murmured as he leaned his head on the palm of his hand, completely ignoring Hashirama's reply.

"Explains _what_?"

"Your lack of interest in women."

"I'm not–" Hashirama sighed, realizing this was going nowhere. "I'm not interested in anyone, period."

'_Liar, liar, liar, liar–' _If he could only strangle that little voice in the back of his head, all would be well. This was just… just a phase. It meant nothing! It was a random thought probably caused because of a lack of sleep and because he'd been ignoring his own needs for so long. This had nothing to do with Madara – certainly, if he were to be attracted to _anyone_, surely he would've picked a more suitable person that his rival and former enemy? Even if he were inherently only interested in men, he could _deal _with that. A few of his closest friends had had short affairs with other men, and as long as he'd keep it under the covers it would be no issue at all (and he praised his lucky stars for being born in a clan that was more open-minded than most others) but this was going to absolutely drive him insane.

The conversation had gone silent for a moment, and in that moment Hashirama was denying everything in his own mind with such fervor he was almost starting to believe himself – except then the simplest motion destroyed all his defenses.

Madara turned his head slightly to the right, his chin resting on his palm as he stared outside through the window. The smallest ray of sunlight fell on his face, and with the movement of his head a few locks of his hair fell in front of his eyes. His pale skin seemed almost radiant in the light, the look in the deep red eyes Hashirama never ceased to be entranced by was thoughtful. His raven hair moved slightly with a light breeze, and the eyes shifted to look back at Hashirama again with a questioning, but always subtle, gaze.

How could he deny such beauty? How could he be foolish enough to think he could just turn a switch and shut his emotions down? Across him sat the most admirable and graceful creature in existence, and he was telling himself to _ignore _it. How? It could not be done. If ever there was an impossible task, then this would be it. Admiring him he had, plenty of times, but he'd never thought of his feelings of going beyond that – and he'd been blind, or perhaps willfully ignorant, because anything beyond admiration was everything that was impossible.

"What about you?"

The words had left his mouth before he'd intended them to. He was startled, but what puzzled him even more was the bewildered look that crossed Madara's features, even if it was for just a second – as if someone had just woke him up by dousing him in ice cold water. Before he could even open his mouth to respond, the Sarutobi girl returned to their table with their food. He put up a smile and politely thanked her for the food as Madara observed him, not once even glancing at the girl. For the few seconds Hashirama already started to eat he could feel him staring at him, but decided not to look in fear his eyes might give something away. The whole atmosphere around them was riddled with tension that could've been avoided, had Hashirama only stayed composed like he otherwise usually did.

He wondered when this had started to grow, when this admiration had turned into a wanting. When they signed the treaty? When they met on one of those numerous occasions to drive out enemies in the territory? During the celebration of uniting all those different clans into one alliance? He couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. He'd been such a fool to ignore it; perhaps if he'd realized it sooner, it could've been properly dealt with. He could've talked himself out of it, or distracted himself in one way or another.

Now, it was too late. Those red eyes haunted his dreams at night and other times kept him sleepless. Even the food he was eating had no taste, and an odd numbness settled over him. It was tragic, almost, realizing there was something you desired above everything else and seconds later knowing that you would never be able to reach it.

So what do you do when you're in a situation like that?

You make small talk.

"I suppose you settled in nicely in your new home?" he asked casually, a hollow feeling gnawing at his guts as he put up an empty smile. Nothing more than a meaningless pleasantry.

"The location is nice enough, I suppose." Madara responded blankly, then sipping his tea.

"It's right by the Naka River, isn't it?"

"The river runs through it." he corrected him briefly. "It is a beautiful place." he then added softly, almost contemplatively, but didn't seem interested in talking about it otherwise. Hashirama hadn't had the chance to see it yet, and maybe wouldn't be able to for a while since the Senju weren't welcome in the compound anyway. He thought this was odd. After all, as the founders of the village, shouldn't they at least visit each other now and then?

"You should come visit my garden." he suggested, and Madara looked up at him with a frown. "I'm willing to bet it's more beautiful than your river." The Uchiha raised an eyebrow.

"You should know I don't take my bets lightly, Hashirama." he warned the Senju, who didn't seem threatened. His private garden was, in his eyes, the most beautiful place in Konoha. In his spare time he'd worked on it, or went there to set his mind at ease. It had the most diverse and colorful array of flowers in the village, and it was always quiet, save for the birds who seemed to love to sit in the branches of his trees and sing their songs, mostly during dawn when Hashirama would wake up and quietly escape from his bedroom to the garden to enjoy watching the sun come up and its light warm his skin. He doubted a mere river could compare.

"Nor do I. For a bottle of sake, then?" Hashirama said, a little more cheerfully than he'd been a few minutes ago.

"Fine." Madara responded, seeming completely confident like he always was.

"Alright then," Hashirama stood up from his seat, and put some money on the table. "Let's go and see who's right." Madara narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the currency on the table which was enough to pay for both of them.

"You're not paying for my bill." he stated sharply.

Hashirama knew better than to argue with him, and with a sigh took some of it back. Madara put his own coins on the table, and the two men left the shop.

Though Hashirama was utterly convinced his desires were a lost cause, no one could blame him that for just a moment as they walked side by side towards the Senju clan's compound, he felt like he was the happiest man alive.

* * *

**See, I could've gone for the everyone-is-homophobic-and-Hashi-angsts route, but that's been done to death. Besides, some fics I've seen failed to take into consideration that one of the top causes for homophobia is some of the biggest religions such as Christianity or Islam (yep, sorry to burst your bubble). Seeing as there aren't such religions in Narutoverse, I decided that there should be no condemnation for it, other than for practical reasons such as two men can't have children so it's generally somewhat frowned upon. Not the extreme stone-all-the-gays-to-death thing.**

**So yeah, that explanation was for anyone who was wondering about why I decided to do that. It seems more realistic that way.**

**A huge thanks to everyone who bothered to review, and everyone who fave'd and is following this story! **

**Also, an awesome person by the name of **_**lilacfig**_** decided to make an awesome drawing inspired by my fic (I'm so proud of myself ;_;)**

**Go to my profile to get the link!**

**Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and if you'd be so kind enough to review (again), that would make my day! :)**

**Bye-bye!**


	8. Blooming

**Blooming**

"Hashirama! Where did you–" Tobirama's sentence fell short when he saw who was accompanying his brother. Madara was not impressed with the blatant glare that was being sent his way, neither had he been impressed by the whispers that had followed him the moment he'd entered the Senju's territory – though it had been entirely expected.

"Another time?" Hashirama suggested smoothly as Tobirama glowered at their visitor.

"Right." the young man huffed, walking off with a scowl on his face, indicating he wasn't too happy, though he'd also seemed surprised. After all, it wasn't every day you saw the Uchiha clan leader dawdle around in the corridors of the Senju compound together with his former enemy and biggest rival. Hashirama gave Madara an apologetic smile, before they resumed their walk through the corridor. He told the Uchiha all sorts of interesting anecdotes and stories about the place. Apparently there were rumors that the particular hallway they were walking through now – which lead to Hashirama's private garden, located right behind his house – was haunted by the mourning spirit of a deceased man who was forever searching his lost wife.

"I assume you don't believe this ghost story, do you?" Madara spoke after Hashirama had told him about it, while his eyes wandered around the corridor.

"Of course not. It was my brother who started the rumor in the first place." the Senju explained nonchalantly. Madara, who'd been studying the interesting and colorful paintings decorating the wooden walls of the hallway up until then, looked up as his interest was piqued by this remark.

"Why would he do that?"

"It wasn't intentional," Hashirama clarified hastily. "He got drunk one night and stumbled down this way. Ended up sleeping here with a huge hangover. His moans scared quite a lot of the servants around here, you see, and they mistook him for a ghost." Madara nodded slowly in understanding, focusing back to the paintings because at the moment, he was certain that even a glance would be enough to make him tense. The previous conversation in the café had put this little knot of unease in the pit of his stomach which had made itself comfortable there – and indeed, he regretted bringing the topic up entirely as it had backfired on him.

He'd been curious, he supposed. Why? Well, he didn't exactly know, but that was simply how curiosity worked; some things interest you, other things don't, and the "why" is irrelevant. Either way, that particular conversation had sparked something in him he could not appreciate. The moment Hashirama had slipped up, just a tiny bit, he'd revealed to him that perhaps he wasn't all that "saintly" as everyone else (and admittedly, for a while there Madara had almost been inclined to believe it as well) thought. At the time, it hadn't bothered him. Such things in the Uchiha clan were of course kept entirely behind closed doors. You simply did not speak of it, not even with the closest of your friends and relatives. At least, that's what everyone else told you – and then they'd turn right around and spread gossip about _you-know-who _cheating on his wife with _that_ _man next door._

Affairs happened all the time, and though a man and a woman sleeping together in "secret" was more frequent, two men sharing the night together happened often enough as well, but you rarely noticed anything about it until the next wave of gossips was being spread along.

Madara, from time to time, had entertained himself with such a distraction when there was too many stress pressing down on him. This "distraction" had always been a woman, and then it wasn't even because of some particular sexual attraction – it had more to do with a temporary release, but he didn't do it much; so far he'd only done it three times and on all those occasions he'd definitely reached his limit. He was undoubtedly the strongest as the leader of the clan, and most definitely handsome, so seducinga woman wasn't a problem at all, and he needed the release. Even he had his limits in _suppressing his urges_, so to speak.

It would always start with him getting unusually fidgety. He'd pace, he'd pick up objects, study them briefly, put them down again, touch paintings, rub his forehead a lot, readjust his hair, pull on his clothes – and this was just stage one. Stage two was him basically getting frustrated and a lot more irritable than usual. His otherwise emotionless expression was replaced by a constant glare, he'd clench his jaw when being even slightly bothered, and generally snarl and/or growl a lot. In this stage he was still trying to suppress whatever needs he felt. In stage three, the urges became too much and slipped out from under his hold. He even had to strain to focus on something for an extended period.

When that happened, his thoughts wandered off to strange places. Well, stranger places they usually wandered off to. When that conversation had begun, he'd been well in the middle of stage three. By the time it had ended he'd been wondering, as he'd stared out the window, whether Hashirama was speaking the truth when he'd said he wasn't interested in anyone. He supposed the man would have no reason to lie and it wasn't like Madara was petty enough to spread rumors about his love life in the first place. Then he'd wondered if the Senju had any experience in sex. Of course his thoughts would go back to sex – it had been practically screaming at him for the past seven weeks to find some form of release _other_ than masturbation. He'd felt a familiar warmth in his lower region and before he could help himself he'd wondered how Hashirama's skin would feel under his touch and from there, well, it had gotten a little out of control.

That was when that question had interrupted his train of thought.

"_What about you?"_

That was also when he'd recognized what he'd actually just been thinking of (_'I wonder–' _and these two words had led to sinfully erotic images filling his mind_)_, a bewildered look crossing his face as he realized he'd just been having the most vulgar thoughts about the man _sitting right across from him_.

It had not fully sunk in yet. He kept trying to push it back into the darkest corners of his mind – but he knew those thoughts would escape into the light eventually, and when that time came he wondered if he could retain his sanity. This, though as melodramatic as it might sound, was not exaggerated in the least.

The man he'd been inadvertently fantasizing about was responsible for countless of deaths; the deaths of friends, relatives, people he cared about; and not a lifetime could ever make him forget his dead.

He could tolerate an alliance, he could accept even a friendship – but the bond between them was a bond soaked in blood and woven through the corpses of their people, through the cries of the victims of battle and slaughter, through the marching of soldiers and the echoing of war-cries. This past was not easily forgotten, not for Madara. He'd never admit it, but in the end, he was more sensitive to such things than Hashirama was. He held grudges, he did not forget, and he did not forgive easily.

But he enjoyed his rival's company regardless. Indeed, he was one of the very few Madara held in high regard, and he knew that during the war they'd both done what had been necessary at the time. Knowing this, he didn't feel guilty about whatever friendship they were starting to develop. It could only be beneficial for their clans and keep the peace both of them had craved for, for so many years.

However – this yearning? These hideously lewd thoughts? This wanting, and burning, and screaming inside his chest that had burst into a roaring flame? It was too much for him to take. It was crossing the line, it was utter selfishness, and he felt disgusted with himself that he could've ever even considered it, even if his mind had been hazy at the time.

He could not accept this. If he did, it might very well end up destroying him in the long run.

"I suppose no one bothers you when you're in your garden, then?" Madara asked, deciding to keep the conversation going as the silence was much too telling. The thoughts, he shook off. He pushed them away and dismissed them to the best of his ability. He blanked out.

He was numb.

He could see Hashirama smiling mildly from the corners of his eyes as he mainly looked over the dark portrait of an elegant, elderly lady.

"Unless they're willing to take a detour and walk all the way to my house, no. The garden is right between the main building and my private quarters." The words now rang rather empty to his ears, much like the first times they'd had civil conversations together. Madara had not believed a word that had come out of Hashirama's mouth back then with his talk of alliances and he'd shut him out, mentally – and he did the exact same thing here, though for entirely different reasons. It was a practical defense mechanism, really. Shut off any and all feelings; something he'd had to master when having to take up a blade and murder other human beings at such a young age.

He couldn't keep it up forever, though. He knew eventually all of what he blocked out would catch up with him – and what would happen then… it frightened him.

Right then, a particularly colorful painting caught his eye. He halted abruptly, as he'd never seen anything like it. It wasn't like he particularly enjoyed art, but he could appreciate a good painting when he saw one.

This one was of a beautiful young woman with delicate features and a voluptuous body, covered by a green kimono which only seemed to emphasize her graceful posture. Her soft, pale face was twisted into a somber expression, her eyes closed as her coal black hair draped her shoulders and hid half of her face like a curtain. There was no background, and everything else around her was white – save for the tree behind her. Madara didn't exactly recognize it, as he had no interest in plants or gardening and anything of the sort, but it was beautiful; bright pink flowers that hung over her, almost as if to comfort her in her sorrow. He gazed upon the painting, vaguely wondering whether there was a story behind it. The thing he'd initially noticed were the vibrant flowers, however. They seemed even more detailed than the woman was.

"Do you like it?" He was startled – but didn't even so much as flinch when Hashirama's voice was heard right behind him. Madara turned his head slightly, and was almost surprised at how close he was standing but he wasn't about to move away and make the situation unnecessarily awkward. Yet, the fact remained that had he been standing just a little closer, Madara was positive he could've felt his breath on his neck.

"It's well-made." he commented plainly, hiding whatever turmoil in his head from his face.

"A close friend of mine made it for me. I have those flowers in my garden, too. He stood there for hours, studying them. A very dedicated man." the Senju said, seeming to be reminiscing about some distant memory. Madara decided to move on, starting to walk as Hashirama was right beside him, and they finally arrived at their destination. Hashirama opened the door at the end of the corridor, and they were greeted by a most tranquil sight.

The garden wasn't all too large, but perhaps that only added to its charm. It had a few trees scattered about here and there, while it was surrounded by a dark brown fence (no doubt one Hashirama had set up himself). There was a small pond in the middle of the garden, the water clear and shining brightly in the sunlight, almost as if it were greeting them while the pink and white water lilies floated on the surface peacefully. There was a small, grain covered path which lead through the garden, around the lake, and back to the door. On both sides of the path a colorful array of flowers was blooming, and while it would seem like they were growing untamed at first glance, at further inspection they were all growing neatly right next to each other, but not to the point where it was obvious someone had planted them. This subtle charm had probably won Madara over before he could even think twice about comparing this garden paradise to his river. However, there was one particular aspect in the area that drew his attention.

A very small tree, the top branches barely reaching past Madara's head, and its lower branches rather low to the ground. The pink flowers, the same he'd seen in the painting, were blooming as their petals hung down gracefully. Madara wandered over immediately, not giving anything else a second glance. He'd seen those flowers before, but couldn't really recall where – either way, they were absolutely beautiful. He heard Hashirama following him behind, and he stopped in front of the small tree, gently grabbing a branch and pulling it closer as he stared down at the flower he held in his hand.

"What's it called?" Madara asked curiously, brushing his fingers over the soft petals.

"Wisteria." Hashirama answered, and suddenly crouched down, disappearing under the branches of the tree. Madara lowered his head and gave him a questioning glance. The Senju merely relaxed against the base of the tree as it provided great shade from the sun, and no doubt smelled good as well. "I always loved to take a nap down here. Come join me." he invited him with a smile. Madara hesitantly crouched down – every fiber of his mind screaming at him it was a bad idea – and sat down next to his rival. He couldn't just stand around and stare at Hashirama after all; that would look a little too strange. As he leaned against the tree, he found that it was indeed very relaxing. The smell was almost intoxicating, and the environment almost urged him to fall asleep.

"I owe you a bottle of sake." Madara murmured, and he heard a soft, low chuckle right next to his ear, sending pleasant chills down his spine. He turned his head away for a moment to try to suppress the feeling, and realized that if he didn't find _any _form of release or "distraction" that exact day, the next he might very well decide to go on a tirade.

"There's a whole story behind that painting." Hashirama told him while interrupting his thoughts once again, and he glanced at the Senju, as a sign that he was interested and listening. "The woman you saw on the painting is the spirit of the wisteria, and so she is called the Wisteria Maiden. She lives in the painting."

"This is going to be a tragic love story, isn't it?" Madara remarked dryly, and Hashirama laughed warmly, folding his arms against his chest. The sound created a pleasant tingling in his stomach, and he dug his nails into his palm to get rid of the feeling.

"How could you tell?" Hashirama asked amused.

"The beautiful female spirit of a flower can only fit in so many genres." Madara said languidly, making it himself comfortable (or at least make it _seem _like he was) as he tried to focus on the story and not the fact that their arms were pressing against each other. "Go on."

"Well, you're entirely right. In a small village in the most northern part of the Land of Fire, people would stroll its art-lined streets, viewing the beauty of the artisans works. The painting of the Wisteria Maiden caught the eye of a male passerby.

"As he gazed upon the painting, the Wisteria Maiden became infatuated with him. So infatuated in fact, that she came to life, stepping out of the painting. She wrote him beautiful, heartfelt letters, but the letters went unanswered."

"So she steps back into the painting and wallows in self-pity for the rest of her days?"

"Good guess. I suppose you could put it that way." Hashirama conceded, and Madara sighed, unimpressed with the story.

"That's rather pathetic. Were the love letters at least cheesy to the point of hilarity?"

"You are the only person to make my heart beat – things like that, yes." Hashirama recited with such a dry tone, Madara couldn't help but chuckle.

"How very literal."

"The creator of that story, is also the painter of that picture in the corridor. I suppose he once had some unrequited love or something of the sort."

"Unrequited love? Hn." Madara snorted, suddenly feeling a little anxious. "It's merely cowardice. There's nothing tragic about this story. She should've confronted him, face to face."

"Is that what you would do? Be direct?" Hashirama asked as he looked at him curiously, his upper body turned slightly towards him, but he also leaned back a bit. Madara wondered whether shifting a little further away would be too obvious.

"Of course. Wouldn't you be?"

"Yes, I suppose I would be." Hashirama muttered thoughtfully. "Though, it mostly depends on the person."

"Afraid to scare away whatever delicate little flower you set your sight on?"

"I would never set my sight on a _"delicate little flower"_, Madara." the man corrected him as he scoffed. "The last thing I need is someone like that hanging around me right now. I'd want someone who's actually helpful, at least."

"Naturally, Hashirama Senju could _never_ be content with a mere trophy wife. Oh, perish the thought." Madara spoke sarcastically, and as the conversation went on he only barely noticed both of them were loosening up and Hashirama was leaning in just a _little _bit closer than what could be called a comfortable range..

"I see you know me well." the Senju noted amused, smiling just a little while. "However, I do not believe you would be so direct if the object of your affection was someone unapproachable. Say, someone from another clan." Hashirama hypothesized, and Madara narrowed his eyes mildly in disapproval.

"Affairs happen all the time. Such things would never scare me off."

"Oh? Even if it was someone from my clan?"

He could swear the inherent ability to breathe vanished entirely at a most hideous thought (_'If it were you–') _crossing his mind. His face turned expressionless as he tried to shut off whatever reaction could give anything away.

He played pretend.

"I wouldn't approach anyone from your clan, but certainly not out of cowardice." he declared with a face so perfectly smooth even the slightest hint of emotion was hidden away.

"Are you certain? The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, after all."

Madara's eyes lingered on Hashirama's for a second too long, and he turned away, shaking his head while he did so.

'_Forbidden fruit?' _The words floated around in his head, almost taunting him. He scowled and glared at the ground, futilely trying to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts that his mind insisted on throwing at him.

Hashirama was a little puzzled at this odd reaction, but when the Uchiha finally had the composure to look at the man without feeling any despicable urges, there was another emotion in his eyes besides the mild confusion which Madara couldn't seem to place.

"Rest assured, none of your women interest me." he spoke eventually, keeping a apathetic face and tone. Hashirama looked like he wanted to say something, frowning mildly. He opened his mouth for just a moment before closing it and deciding to stay silent. This made Madara curious. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Spare me the platitudes and tell me."

"You care about what I think now, do you?" Hashirama teased him playfully, but Madara could see through his attempt at derailing the conversation and wasn't about to fall for it.

"Don't you care about what I think?" he questioned. Hashirama cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. A few bangs moved and fell in front of his face.

If he could only reach out and–

'_Stop it!' _

"Of course I do." Hashirama responded matter-of-factly.

"Then I think that you should tell me what you think." Madara replied, for the first time in his life feeling the urge to repeatedly whack his head against a hard surface in the hopes that might stop the thoughts from bothering him.

"Ah. You were never easy to fool."

"Especially not with skills such as yours. You have yet to learn the finer arts of manipulation."

"I'd be honored if you'd like to teach me then, Madara-sensei."

"I think not. I have little patience for altruists. Now go on, tell me about this unspoken question of yours." Hashirama sighed, realizing Madara was not going to let it go, and he nodded. Madara took a good look at him, and realized he did look somewhat tired. No doubt he'd been working for days on end, dedicated to the village as he was. Madara was not concerned; he knew very well Hashirama was more than capable of taking care of himself. A little exhaustion was definitely not enough to cause a man such as him any harm.

He was starting think rather fondly of this man, wasn't he?

'_Damn it all to hell. Everything was so much simpler back when we just tried to kill each other.'_

"I suppose this is only fair since you asked me earlier, but I still do not feel at ease asking it." Hashirama admitted to him.

"This is about my private life, then?" Madara noted bluntly, already having figured it out. "I'll have you know I've had experience – exclusively with women, so if you were hoping to get some advice, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. I've never been interested in men."

"For the love of…." Hashirama rubbed his forehead, clearly not happy with the comment – this would've been amusing to Madara, were it not for the constant whispering of his inner conscience calling him a foul liar over and over and over. Despite this, he kept a straight face. Of course he did; he was Madara Uchiha, after all. "I already told you, I have no interest in _anyone_. Neither men nor women." the Senju spoke, mildly irritated.

"I find that hard to believe." Madara responded slowly, brushing off a few petals that had fallen on top of him, and plucking them out of his hair with a hint of annoyance. "Or are you such an altruist that the pleasures of the common folk are beneath your mighty pedestal?" he jeered. Hashirama stayed silent for a moment, and not even the Uchiha could figure out what he was feeling.

"No, not at all," he eventually murmured, a somewhat dismal tone in his voice. "I'm quite selfish, actually." Madara raised his eyebrows at this.

"Is this the part where you tell me some sort of heart-breaking or profound tale which serves only to make you seem even more sympathetic?"

"No such thing." Hashirama brushed it off immediately. He was staring at Madara, but at the same time looking right through him as well, as if he were gazing at something which was far in the distance. "If you knew what kind of thoughts I get in my head you wouldn't be talking about me like that."

"What kind of thoughts would these be?" Hashirama stayed quiet yet again, and Madara didn't even notice as he leaned in for the slightest bit, inquisitively staring at the older man as he waited for an answer. The Senju's gaze met his – and just like that, it locked. He was entranced and trapped by those coal black eyes, staring into his red ones with an ever-steady gaze.

"Very recently, I've come to a conclusion." Hashirama said, unblinking, not moving, as if afraid to break the eye-contact. Madara decided that listening – no matter what kind of breathlessness he was experiencing at the moment – was the best option.

"What would that be?" he asked softly.

"I can't tell you that yet." Hashirama said with an apologetic smile. "It's incomplete, actually. But I've come to this conclusion, by making a discovery."

"Will you at least tell me what that is?"

"Hmm. As they say, curiosity killed the clan leader." Madara was then petrified, when Hashirama's hand suddenly moved towards his face. His brain froze, and all he could think of was sitting perfectly still, and waiting to see what would happen. Hashirama himself didn't seem quite present. His thoughts seemed to have at least partially wandered off elsewhere – and left Madara's head in turmoil as to what to do about the sudden move. Gently push the hand away? Slap it away? Ignore it? Either way, he decided to at the very least keep his composure or whatever was left of it and focus on Hashirama's face. "This discovery… you could say it changed a lot. Or maybe it wasn't a discovery at all. Maybe I knew all along, but just buried it away."

"You take enjoyment out of bemusing me, don't you?" Madara muttered, having decided that ignoring it was the best action.

"No. Not intentionally, anyhow. The thing is, I'm not certain I have it all quite figured out yet. There is this…." The Senju leader stayed silent for a moment, his hand gently grabbing a lock of his companion's black hair, leaning over just a little. Madara only watched, his heart starting to thump in a faster rhythm as he observed the unreadable expression on Hashirama's face. A small petal which he hadn't even noticed was plucked carefully out of his hair, and that was the end of the contact. While it had seemed like it had lasted for an eternity, in reality it had only been a few fleeting seconds.

This reaction, Madara figures, could not be healthy to such a trivial action. He wondered why Hashirama had just done that, but it didn't bother him all that much. It seemed like a meaningless but a considerate (if not somewhat odd) gesture.

"This what?" Madara finally repeated, tearing his gaze away and deciding to watch a crow flutter down from one of the branches of a slender oak tree it had been perching on to most likely search for some food down below. At least it was better to look at than just blankly staring ahead of him.

"Let me put it in a way you'll understand, but won't give my secret away."

"Oh? You're keeping secrets now?" Hashirama ignored that.

"Let's say there's a single apple, which is said to be so delicious you could not compare it to any other food on the entire planet."

"Sounds promising."

The crow pulled a worm from the ground, before dropping it again and pecking at it, as if it were tasting it, its head cocking to the right or left every now and then.

"This apple is within hand's reach. It's just a hair's breath away, and you could easily grab it and take a bite out of it."

Quite soon, however, it was tired of the worm, and set off to find tastier prey in greener pastures – though Madara could not imagine greener pastures than this idyllic little garden.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well, you're likely to immediately go delirious from even taking a single bite."

"It is a forbidden fruit, then?"

"No, not forbidden. Not explicitly. But it would cause you to go insane either way. Do you believe it's worth it? Would you take a bite?" Madara stayed silent for quite a while as he contemplated this question. Hashirama shot glances at him every now and then, which were quite distracting at the time. Madara sighed and eventually came up with an answer while he wondered what this "apple" was. A forbidden technique would be his best guess. He would've said it was another person, but since Hashirama had persisted in denying he had any interest in anyone, that couldn't be it. Unless he was lying, but why would he? He was disclosing this information right now, wasn't he?

"I wouldn't eat it. But I wouldn't let anyone else eat it, either. Most likely, I'd destroy it." Hashirama nodded slowly.

"I see. Now, if only it could be that easy."

"So, this is the discovery you made? The "apple"?" Madara remarked inquisitively.

"Yes. I found that apple, and now I'm not so sure what to do with it."

"What about the conclusion you have so far?" Hashirama leaned back his head against the tree as he stared up at the branches above them. A cool breeze rustled the petals and the leafs, and Madara saw that it was indeed the perfect place to take a nap.

"That it's a lost cause, and that whether I take a bite or not, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life." Madara snorted.

"Curse the day you found that apple, I'd say." Hashirama laughed softly.

"Oh, I could never." he muttered as he shifted his weight, in the process his hand accidentally brushing Madara's. Their eyes locked once more, and he swore he saw something.

Just a hint of an emotion Madara couldn't quite place flickered briefly in those black eyes. He didn't know what, or why, but it was something different, something he hadn't seen before – and coupled with the briefest touch of hands, it sent an electric pulse through his body, the tension instantly returning as it hit full force. Hashirama blinked, almost alarmed at what had just happened – and _then _Madara finally recognized that unfamiliar look in those otherwise always calm eyes.

Vulnerability.

He could've taken advantage of it. He could've squeezed out whatever information he wanted if he found out how to control this sudden emotion he was seeing in Hashirama's eyes. But he didn't. Instead, he blanked out. It was a state which everyone else showed now and then, but Madara would've _never _expected to see such a look in Hashirama's eyes.

It did something strange to him; a warm feeling was budding inside of his chest and not once did the notion of taking advantage of it cross his mind. Though he could never admit it to himself, he enjoyed that feeling. He treasured that feeling. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, so long ago. The only time he remembered feeling like this was when he'd been a child, and was taking care of his little brother who'd become seriously sick and was bed-ridden. He didn't have a name for it. He didn't know what it was that caused it – Hashirama was neither sick nor a child he wanted to take care of. But he liked it, and the warm feeling grew, and it bloomed, and it became too much.

"It's late." he muttered, almost inaudibly. The sun had just begun to set, and it wasn't that late at all, but he needed to get away. Hashirama nodded slowly in response, apparently not willing or able to give a proper response. He seemed frozen in place, and it seemed like he wasn't sure what to do or say in this uncomfortable situation.

Frustration and tension and confusion and tingling and longing and the warmth grew–

'_Stop it.'_

"I should leave." he managed to get out, tearing his eyes away from Hashirama's startled ones, as he got out from under the tree, brushing off whatever dirt and petals were on his clothes and hair. Hashirama followed his example. He seemed to have regained some of his composure, though there was still that tempting look in his eyes which almost urged for Madara to reach out and–

'_Get away! Have you lost your mind?! Leave! Immediately!' _

"I'll show you the way out." Hashirama said quietly, and Madara didn't even respond as he started walking.

Whatever had happened was not something he wanted to dwell upon.

The entire way to the exit was completely silent. Neither of them even looked at each other and Madara tried distracting himself by looking at the paintings on the walls again. They passed the painting of the Wisteria Maiden. He only remembered two words of the story Hashirama had told him.

_Unrequited love._

He felt the urge to grip his hair and rip it out.

"Madara," Hashirama spoke when they were outside again, in front of the Senju compound. "Don't forget the bet." An attempt at lightening the mood, no doubt.

Madara was fine with playing along.

"What do you take me for? I'm a man of my word, Hashirama."

"I never doubted that."

A sincere and kind smile was all it took to get his thoughts rolling again.

'_Stop it!' _

He quickly glanced away, pretending to see something interesting in the crow that was sitting on top of a wooden fence, gazing blankly at his surroundings, and he idly wondered if this was the same crow from before.

"When you get the bottle, we should drink it together." Hashirama suddenly suggested, prompting Madara to look at him again in surprise.

"If that is what you wish to do with it." he said slowly, when an idea occurred to him. A thought, more specifically. Something that should've never left his mouth, but did anyhow. "We should drink it by the Naka River, since you haven't seen it yet."

Hashirama seemed genuinely flustered by this invitation, before he reverted to his calm and pleasant self. With a gracious smile he accepted the offer – seeming to be sincerely happy with the unintentional invitation.

As Madara walked away, he could only think of one thing. When he arrived in his own home, he still thought of that one thing. When he greeted Izuna, he was still thinking of that one thing.

That one thing was the recognition of his own foolishness and weakness. Whatever had happened during that visit, whatever his thoughts had been and what he'd considered and felt – he decided it could never happen again.

He also knew this was practically impossible to achieve. You couldn't kill your own thoughts that easily, after all.

The warm feeling in his chest had long disappeared by the time he was in his own room.

That night, he went to look for a "distraction" which could provide some release, and maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous phase (or whatever it was) would come to an end if he did just that.

It didn't work.

The following morning, he wanted to scream on the top of his lungs when said distraction hadn't helped for one bit, and had only made things worse as he felt disgusted with himself then for being so easily swayed into attempting to take the easy way out.

So he did the only thing he could do – he went into an insanely adamant denial. He listlessly contemplated the past day, as he stayed in bed for the entire morning, refusing to talk to anyone to try and sort the chaos in his head out before doing any of his regular duties.

He then, somewhere in the afternoon, came to the conclusion that this was a simple case of a ridiculous admiration that had gone a little out of control, and it would blow over eventually. Nothing less, nothing more.

Besides, if all else had failed, he could at least take pride in the fact that he was so skilled at lying that he'd even deceived his own mind.

* * *

**Wisteria Maiden is legit, by the way. In Japan they have some sort of cultural dance-story-thing about it. **

**You see, I stumbled upon the wisteria flower one time when randomly surfing the internet and decided that the flower, and thereby the story attached to it which I found by researching the flower, made a fitting title for this fic which I'd been thinking about writing for quite a while.**

**Fun fact you probably won't even care about: all Word docs of the chapters I've written are named W1, W2, W3, etc. **

**Oddly enough I always misread it as, say, WW1.**

**So, that was that. Both of them are now mutually despairing (though I suppose Madara moreso than Hashirama, but really, Uchiha are such dramaqueens you couldn't have expected anything else (with the exception of Itachi (oh my god it's a bracket-within-a-bracket-within-a-bracket! BRACKETCEPTION!)))**

**Anyhow, I hope you're satisfied with the romantic-distress because the distress which will follow this chapter is _not _romantic. ****At all. ****It's actually quite depressing.**

**Thanks to all of the lovely people who bothered reviewing!**

**See ya next time! Don't forget to review (again?), I'd love some feedback at this point!**

**Ciao! **

**P.S: No, I'm not Italian, I just enjoy using fancy-sounding words to show off my very limited multilingual vocabulary in an attempt to look cool. **

**Also, Italian is a beautiful language. I wish I were Italian. This is my compensation for not being born in Italy, dammit.**

**I don't even know why the hell I wrote this stupidly mundane explanation for such a triviality which became a complaint about my lack of knowledge on Italian language, but there you go.**

**I suppose I should go find the life which I gave up for adoption years ago. Wish me luck.**

**And if you have no idea what I'm referencing with the Italian-thing, then, well... I'm at a loss for words, really. Maybe... read more books?**

**Ciao. ****Again. ****For real this time.**

**These _Author's Notes_ are getting way too fucking long.**


	9. Wilting

**Wilting**

"You seem troubled."

Madara didn't respond to his visitor, and moved his rook instead, focused on the shōgi board. His brother was sitting next to him, petting the annoying creature which he'd seemed to have taken a liking to as it purred on his lap. It was somewhat late in the afternoon, and it had been two days since the garden visit, and yet thoughts about that day refused to leave him alone, no matter what he tried. The people closest to him had noticed his anxiety, but his lips were sealed shut. This did not stop them from trying to pry it out of him, however, as was evident from the numerous attempts of his current visitor.

Hikaku Uchiha, their second cousin (which in fancy terms meant they had the same great-grandparents, but not same grandparents), was a royal pain in the ass if there ever was one, or at least to Madara. The young man had shoulder-length brown hair that framed his face and the rest of it he'd tied into a high ponytail. He was one of the clan's most powerful shinobi and respected despite his young age of only eighteen. In a way, him and Madara were quite similar, but Hikaku had always been very direct and generally a lot more sociable.

Also a whole lot more nosy.

"Brother, you can't stay silent forever." Izuna said with a sigh, probably having grown tired of him avoiding whatever was troubling him.

"Watch me." Madara stated simply, waiting for Hikaku to make another move.

"You can't expect your problem, whatever it is, to vanish into thin air on its own." the younger man said with a slight frown as he moved another shōgi piece, cornering Madara's knight.

"If it does not interfere with my duties as the leader, then I see no reason for you to meddle." Madara responded, starting to feel irritated.

"This isn't about your position, this is about your well-being. We're all worried about you." Izuna argued as he stopped petting the cat for a moment. The grey fur ball with her elegant black stripes mewed disappointedly, putting her paw on Izuna's arm to draw his attention as she stared up at him with her large, green eyes. Madara cursed his little brother's ability in making him feel like a horribly inconsiderate person with just a few words.

"You needn't fuss over me. I can handle myself just fine." he spoke sharply, taking down Hikaku's bishop, who scowled in frustration.

"Fine. Then I'd like your consent to go on another mission." Izuna spoke in an annoyed tone, and Madara glared at him, furrowing his brows.

"You're not–"

"If I can't worry about you, then you certainly have no right to worry about me." Izuna interrupted him curtly, gently scratching behind the cat's ear. "I can handle myself just fine." He threw Madara's words right back at him, knowing that would set him off.

"This is different. You've just returned from your last mission a week ago, and your wounds haven't even completely healed yet." Madara snapped, and Hikaku was starting to feel a little uncomfortable as he watched the brothers argue. Izuna had been still going on missions for the past few months, and it had only added to Madara's stress – but Izuna had always insisted, refusing to stay at home like some sort of helpless weakling, and Madara could never bring himself to trample over his brother's pride, so he'd let him. But this time seemed too dangerous. He still had a deep wound on his right shoulder from his last mission which hadn't even fully closed yet.

"It's just a standard patrol. I'll probably never even run into enemies anyway." Izuna replied. "I don't want to sit here and do nothing while I could be making myself useful." Madara supposed he could understand that. This peace, something he wasn't used to, just made him more anxious – and he didn't even have a permanent handicap. He couldn't imagine how bored Izuna must be every day. And if it was just a simple patrolling around the area… what were the chances of an attack?

"I'll think about it." Madara eventually decided, and Izuna smiled. The cat (which Izuna for some idiotic reason had named Momo, which Madara detested since he hated peaches) had grown bored of lazing around. She got off Izuna's lap and curiously looked at the shōgi board, jumping on top of Madara's leg and peering curiously over the board. "Off." Madara said annoyed, pushing the animal away as he was trying to play the game. Izuna had always had a weak spot for cats; Madara couldn't care less. He preferred his own hawk, Sora, a whole lot more than some lazy cat – if it weren't for the fact that it caught stupid rodents who dared to enter the house, he would've been rid of Momo a long time ago.

"You don't need to be so harsh." Izuna said with a slight frown as the cat went to Hikaku instead, who petted her absentmindedly, contemplating his next move in the game.

"It should know better than to use me as some sort of pedestal."

"It's a _cat_, Madara."

"A very foolish cat." Momo meowed loudly, demanding attention, though it sounded like she was insulted.

"Don't listen to my brother. He's a grumpy old man, isn't he? Yes he is." Izuna cooed affectionately to the cat, scratching her chin as she purred, pleased with the love she was receiving. Hikaku snorted a laugh as Madara glowered at his sibling.

"I'm only twenty-four."

"I know. I was talking about your spirit, not your body."

"So I have the spirit of an old man?"

"Sometimes. Other times you have the spirit of a spoiled teenager throwing a temper tantrum." Hikaku chortled again, clasping his hand on his mouth and suppressing his laughter when Madara gave him a glare too.

"If you're so insistent on cracking jokes, perhaps I should name you the court jester from now on." Izuna seemed confused for a moment.

"We don't even have a court."

"Then I'll _make _one."

Eventually Madara ended up beating Hikaku (unsurprisingly) with shōgi and it was time for him to leave. He'd swung by for a casual visit, after all, since everything with the clan was well for the time being. He and Izuna stood up, and Madara followed their example.

"Well, time to leave to Eiji's place. Why aren't you going, anyway?" Hikaku asked his clan leader, and Madara was puzzled for a moment, which made his brother sigh in disappointment. "You realize it's Kagami's birthday, right?" Hikaku clarified with a slight frown.

"It slipped my mind." Madara responded honestly. He'd completely forgotten about his cousin's fourth birthday. No doubt his uncle, Eiji, wouldn't appreciate that, but it wasn't exactly like he could _tell _his clan leader to show up. Sure, it would be rather antisocial to stay at home, but then again, he already had the reputation of being an unsociable dissident so he might as well live up to it.

"When I get back," Izuna spoke disapprovingly, "you and I are going to have a talk."

"Whatever you say, mother dear." Madara sneered, as the two of them left the room, leaving him by himself. He looked around his living room, which was a rather generic one. There was nothing worth noting of importance, save for some paintings of their family hanging on the wall. There was a small one of Izuna and Madara when they'd been children. There was also a portrait of their mother, who was an elegant woman with a pointy nose and chin, large, almond shaped eyes and a warm smile. Her hair had a slight blue tint to it, framing her face in elegant curls. The portrait of their father, in contrast, looked rather austere. He had sharp features, a wide chin with a cleft in the middle, prominent creases under his eyes which Madara had inherited from him, and looked rather statuesque.

In the end Izuna had more features from their mother and Madara looked more like his father – and it was even true in personality. Their mother had always been the more quiet one, always humble, peaceful and kind, while their father was the one with hard discipline, a proud and very strong man, with excellent leadership skills. His father had long since passed away from lethal wounds and old age, but their mother was still alive as she'd been quite young when getting pregnant from both of them.

He gazed upon his father's portrait which hung right next to their mother's, right above a small bookcase filled with history books and numerous scrolls filled with old ninja techniques.

Eventually he grew bored of sitting in his living room and reminiscing of the past and decided to head outside and see what Sora was doing. He'd been a little neglectful of her lately, after all. He walked to his own room, took the glove he used for falconry out of the drawer, and left the house, ending up in his backyard which was very close to the Naka River. Across the Naka River was a large, dark forest, which is where Sora usually stayed. He'd had her ever since he'd been a small kid and she similarly young – a gift from his mother who loved hawks.

It was warm outside, since it was summer though it was nearing its end. A pleasant, cool breeze blew in his face as he walked towards the river, and stood completely still right in front of it. The sun had set a while ago, and the sound of rushing water was oddly comforting in the dark environment. Slowly, almost gently, Madara put two fingers between his lips, and a long whistle soon followed. There was complete silence for a moment, and he patiently waited, not moving an inch until he heard the familiar flapping of wings. He held out his gloved hand and the dark figure in the sky made a dive, gracefully landing on his hand and perching on it, staring at him with its blazing orange eyes, almost accusingly.

"I know, I've been gone for a while." Madara muttered in response, caressing the striped black and white feathers on the chest of his hawk. Above her orange eyes was a white stripe, and the feathers on her back and head were a blue-grey color. She continued to stare at him, almost expectantly, which made him chuckle. "Fine, fine. Let's find you some prey."

He launched her off the glove and she soared high up in the sky while he jumped over the river, and disappeared into the dark forest.

* * *

Kagami was delighted with Izuna's gift, which was a small, silver-bladed, curved dagger. He wouldn't be using it in a while, of course, and wasn't allowed to play around with it – but he could definitely brag about it to his friends. He was already showing it off to his older brother, who pouted, envious of the present.

"Kagami, don't forget to thank your cousin." his father said sternly to the young boy. He wrapped his tiny arms around Izuna, who was seated between Hikaku and Kagami's mother, and gave him a tight hug.

"Thank you!" the boy exclaimed, and Izuna smiled, ruffling his messy black hair.

"Practice well, so that you may wield it one day." he advised him as the boy took the blade out its sheath, watching it glint appreciatively.

"I definitely will!"

The entire event, however, had not been that pleasant for Izuna. Most people still mistook him for some helplessly handicapped individual despite his constant successes in missions, and suffice to say it had been getting on his nerves. Of course, in their clan there was no bigger disgrace than not being able to use the Sharingan, but at least they could be _subtle _about it. He still had ears that worked just fine, better than most people in fact, and he definitely could hear a whisper being exchanged now and then behind his back, with either his name being mentioned or some allusion to his lack of sight.

It was a good thing he was so fond of his little cousin, or he would've lost his temper. He wasn't a temperamental person, no, but this had been going on for months now, and he despised being pitied. Most people around him did love to gossip. Compared to Kagami, who thought his older cousin was amazing for still being able to fight while blind and completely idolized him, the adults were incredibly childish. Even Madara tended to underestimate him now and tried keeping him away from danger, though Izuna knew it was out of brotherly love and not disdain. He'd always been a little overprotective of things or people he cherished.

Still, while Izuna was the more harmonious brother of the two of them, his pride was no less than Madara's and he refused being looked down upon no matter how much of a disadvantage he had. This was one of the reasons he insisted on continuing to be a shinobi and go out on missions. In the end, it made little difference to what people thought, but it made him feel like he was useful and helped his sense of self-worth a great deal.

When the clock eventually hit midnight, he decided to leave, though on his own. He'd memorized all the paths in the entire village by now, so he could find his way just fine. Some people, however, were under the impression he was a child needing an escort.

"Should I take you home?" Iwao, a close friend of Hikaku's, asked him. Izuna remembered him as being rather slender, and having very short, dark brown hair. He'd always been a little obnoxious – his manners horribly fake and everything that came out of his mouth seemed ridiculously rehearsed. Izuna heard Hikaku sigh behind him.

"No. I'm perfectly capable of doing so on my own." Izuna spoke coldly, the words cutting through the atmosphere like a razor.

"I… I didn't mean anything by it, it just seemed like–"

"Like I was completely incompetent on finding the way back _to my own house_?"

"No, no! But I thought it might be, w-well, hard in… in your situation t-to…." The man trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence. Whatever expression that had been on Izuna's face before had completely vanished, and he felt not only completely insulted, but also infuriated. He snatched the man's shirt, jerking him closer to his face.

"Merely because I am blind, does not mean I am helpless. I assure you I can slit a man's throat just as efficiently as I could _with _my eyes – would you like to experience it for yourself, Iwao?" he hissed menacingly, and he heard the man gulp as he struggled against his grip.

"N-no! T-that won't be necessary, I-I understand it completely now! My deepest apologies!" Izuna let the man go, and without another word, made his way to the exit and left the house, leaving the room behind him in complete silence – though he knew the minute he shut the door the gossiping would erupt like a volcano this time.

Oddly enough, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Not feeling at all like going home already in the enraged state he was in, he decided that maybe a walk around the village would calm him down. He didn't want to get Madara involved in this (and he _would _get involved if he saw how angry Izuna had gotten) and cause a whole drama over nothing.

He sighed deeply, starting to walk on the path more towards the center of the village. It was mostly quiet, and there was a soft breeze which rustled the leafs accompanied by the sound of the hoot of an owl every now and then. He missed the sight of the night sky with the countless stars spread across it, the moon glowing faintly as it hid behind a cloud or its light shining through the branches of tall trees which he used to climb on when he was a child. He missed seeing water shimmering under the moonlight, the sight of a hungry fox scavenging the forest as it searched for a meal, the sight of wild flowers – there was so much he missed and could never get back. But it was all worth it, because it had been for his brother, and there'd never been a moment of regret.

He wandered for about five minutes, before he heard the soft taps of footfalls coming from behind him, and soft mutterings. Probably two people. They were still quite a distance away, but he turned around nonetheless, and the footfalls stopped.

"Izuna Uchiha. Fancy meeting you here." he recognized that voice as Tobirama Senju's, though it sounded a little slurred; he was probably drunk. "Heading somewhere, huh?"

"I hardly think that would be any of your business, Tobirama." another voice cut in, unmistakably that of Hashirama Senju.

"I was just taking a walk." Izuna responded plainly, and the footfalls resumed, nearing closer.

"It's pretty late though. Isn't brother dearest going to miss you?" Tobirama jeered, causing the Uchiha to scowl mildly.

"Little brother," Hashirama spoke, irritated, "I suggest you keep your obnoxious remarks to yourself."

"That… _that_ hurts my feelings, you know." Tobirama responded, seeming to stumble a little, or that's what it sounded like to Izuna. He suddenly felt an arm thrown around his shoulder and smelled the stench of alcohol. "See, you're okay. For an Uchiha, I mean. But your brother is a… a... one of those… what's that word I'm thinking of? It starts with the P." Hashirama sighed.

"Psychopath?"

"Yes! Psychopath." Izuna roughly shook off Tobirama's arm, and a loud thud followed. "Ow, man! Why'd you drop me?!"

"I was never holding you in the first place."

"Ah, but I was holding _you_!"

"So?"

"So… so you're kind of a prick for dropping me."

"Tobirama, that makes no sense." He heard some more movement, and assumed Tobirama was back on his feet again. "You'll have to excuse my brother. He loves the taste of sake, as you can smell." Hashirama said, and had anyone else said it, it would've sounded horribly awkward, but he somehow made it sound funny. Izuna smiled mildly.

"Indeed. He is in great need of a bath."

"Hey, I have great hygiene, alright?! Besides, real men smell like alcohol all the time! We don't smell like… like unmanliness!" Tobirama exclaimed, insulted. Izuna was somewhat less annoyed and more intrigued now. He'd never actually interacted with these two like this. Faced in battle he had on plenty occasions, or had politely greeted them when the need arose but not such a casual conversation.

"How is Madara doing? I haven't seen him in a while." Hashirama asked, and Izuna was about to answer him when he was beat to it.

"It's just been two damn days! You'd think you two were girlfriend and boyfriend or something." Tobirama said, clearly exasperated. Hashirama did not respond but Izuna imagined him shooting a glare in his brother's direction by now.

"He's…." He hesitated briefly. "He's doing alright." There was a moment of silence.

"Are you certain?" the Senju leader asked carefully.

"Ah, well, he's a little stressed but it's nothing important, I'm sure."

"You're sure? So you don't actually know?" Izuna folded his arms.

"He refused to tell anyone what it is that bothers him so, but he can handle himself just fine." he replied, completely confident.

"Aw, isn't this sooo adorable! Worrying 'bout your wife again?" Tobirama sneered, the drunk slur in his speech having become a little more apparent.

"Tobirama, I'm _this _close to throwing you into the Naka River." Hashirama threatened, his patience wearing thin.

"What?" the other Senju said, pretending to be hurt. "You wound me, brother! It's perfectly normal for a married couple to–"

"_Silence_, Tobirama. Silence is golden."

"Then speech 's silver, and hey, 'm fine with silver." There was a pause, and then Tobirama sighed. "Fine, I'm heading home! You stay here and gossip 'bout your sweet lil' Madara, I'm gonna go home, and take a hot, nice shower, and then…." His mutterings became inaudible as he walked off with footsteps which had an irregular rhythm.

"Ignore him. When he's sober he's actually very intelligent." Hashirama spoke to Izuna, who chuckled.

"I see." He paused for a moment. "You seem to have taken a liking to my brother. With that I mean your new friendship, of course." It was true – most of the time Madara didn't like to spend much time in the village, but lately he'd been staying away for longer, and nine out of ten times the reason would be Hashirama dragging him off for lunch, or inviting him to take a walk. Izuna was sure Madara would never say it, but he really did seem to like Hashirama.

"I suppose." Hashirama said unsurely. "He's an interesting man." Izuna nodded in agreement.

"He doesn't like getting close to people, but I hope you can forgive his lack of manners. A new friend would do him good."

"What do you mean by that?" Hashirama asked curiously, and Izuna scratched the back of his neck, not sure how to put it.

"He's… well, he needs someone he can trust – and you seem like you're a very reliable person."

"Are there problems within your clan?" Hashirama asked astutely, and Izuna wondered whether to tell him or not. Well, why not? It wasn't all that vital anyway, and Hashirama had always seem like a trustworthy man.

"Not outright. Some people just love to gossip." the Uchiha told him, and from the pause he supposed this needed further clarification. "You haven't asked about my eyes." he noted as a way to hint to what was going on.

"I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"But you have heard the rumors?" Oh, yes. There were plenty of rumors, about how Madara had ripped his brother's eyes out in the dead of the night like a cruel monster, hungry for power, and that poor Izuna had been too weak to protest or fight against him. All of this was not only insulting to _both _of them, but just in extremely poor taste.

"Rumors are all they are." Hashirama said without missing a beat, and Izuna was completely surprised by this statement. He'd said it with such conviction and cool confidence, something he hadn't expected to hear from a Senju. He'd expected them to be prejudiced towards them, at the very least wondering whether it was true or not. But this man didn't even seem to wonder about it.

"Thank you." Izuna said courteously, genuinely grateful that for once there was someone who wasn't moronic enough to believe such outrageous hearsay. "But, that's the gist of it. Some members in the clan believe my brother to be some sort of heartless monster, when the clan has always been his first priority. There's… not many people around he can rely on, and I'm sure you know what my brother is like by now; he doesn't _want _to rely on anyone either, ever, even though there's nothing wrong with being supported every now and then."

"Yes, I've noticed that." Hashirama said with an amused tone of voice. Izuna smiled, though somewhat sadly.

"I won't be around forever, and when I'm not there anymore, I'd like to have the reassurance that my brother has someone looking out for him." Izuna swore he could almost _hear _Hashirama scowl when the Senju said,

"If anything Madara would get himself killed before you." Izuna shook his head. He had a feeling that eventually one of the missions he insisted on doing was going to be his last. Of course, this was also part of the reason why he kept going. He didn't want to grow too old for missions and end up as an old man just waiting to die. If he was going to go out, he wanted to go out in battle, and have an honorable death.

"I'll hope you'll prevent him from doing that, then." Izuna said, and with a nod, turned to walk towards his house. "Good evening." Hashirama didn't respond, but Izuna could feel his stare fixated on his back for a while.

When he got home in the middle of the night, Madara was asleep. Izuna quietly moved to his own room, and found a note on his bed, right on top of his pillow. He gently traced the unusually thick ink-lines with his finger, as it was the only way he could read anymore. It was in Madara's handwriting, and Izuna was happy to see that he'd finally agreed to let him go on the patrol mission, early in the morning.

As he got into his bed, he had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach while he wondered about how the patrol would go. He wasn't nervous, but something felt off.

The following morning, as he got up much earlier than his brother, and after a short breakfast he prepared for the patrol in a perfect routine while he got his equipment and weapons ready, though he didn't think he'd be using them.

Later that day, he would discover he was wrong.

So very wrong.

* * *

**Well, not an eventful chapter, mostly just leading up to something, but I suppose these are necessary every now and then for the, you know, suspense or drama or whatever you want to call it.**

**Ohohoho, someone got the sneaky Mass Effect reference I crammed into chapter five! Kudos to you, anonymous reviewer!**

**Forgive the no doubt shit ton of spelling mistakes, I wrote this in the middle of the freaking night so I'm not entirely at a 100% here :P**

**I'll correct it all in the morning, for now I'm just gonna go sleep.**

**A billion, trillion, gazillion, what-have-you-illion thanks to all the wonderful, awesome reviews I've gotten so far. You guys make me so happy *sniff***

**Hope you review again and tell me what you think of this little build-up chapter!**

**Bye-bye!**


	10. Dead

**Dead**

He found the note he'd written just three days ago lying on his brother's desk, with his words of approval considering the patrolling mission written on it in thick, black ink.

A death sentence.

He moved quietly through the dimly-lit room, his face hidden in the shadows as his fingers traced the surface of the desk only to ultimately reach the note. He picked up and stared at it for a very long time.

_You can go._

The note burst into flames, dissolving into ashes – the wind that entered through the open window carrying them away until nothing was left. The room had been left entirely untouched for the most part, up until now. He removed his gaze from the desk and stared at his younger brother's bed.

Staring was all he could do.

When the message about the sudden attack had first arrived, he'd realized the implications immediately, and his worst fear became his reality, but he'd kept his composure. He hadn't felt anything, he hadn't eaten anything, he hadn't slept, he hadn't talked to anyone for the past days. Silent as his brother's grave.

The hollow feeling in his gut had perhaps spared him, though just for a little while, from the feeling that had only hit him when confronted with his younger brother's corpse that very morning.

Complete and utter anguish. The deepest desperation. An insurmountable sorrow.

He was smiling, even in death.

How he'd kept his cool, he hadn't known. He'd requested to be alone with a complete monotonous voice, and the servants had left. He'd stared, and stared, and his hands had started shaking, and his heart had started aching, and his head had started spinning – and he got out, as fast as he could, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw was starting to hurt.

Without another word he'd retreated home and everything around him passed by like a blur, as if he were in a nightmare from which his body refused to wake up. He'd entered his house, and an overwhelming need had pulled at him, forcing him through one particular bedroom door, and his feet had taken him there – to the place where his brother had always rested.

But no more.

Madara, slowly but surely, walked over to the bed, his hand fleetingly brushing over the blankets, and he could do nothing more but turn away in the end, for his brother's scent poisoned everything and he felt like he was suffocating.

His eyes hurt.

No.

Izuna's eyes hurt.

Weakly, almost like a crippled man, he walked out of his brother's room, and there it hung. An inevitable confrontation – glaring at him, almost accusatory. All his innocence, all his kindness, the warmth in his eyes captured so beautifully in that one painting, that one image. Their hands intertwined, Izuna smiling ever so cheerfully, Madara merely gazing aloofly at the rest of the world, not realizing that what he held in his hand and what stood beside him was the most precious thing in the world.

Izuna's eyes cried – and he, for the first time in years, was forced to his knees, for there was no weapon sharper than sorrow's blade.

The tears he didn't even notice as a choir of accusing voices rang through his head.

'_This is your fault.'_

"I didn't… I never wanted…." He nearly choked on his own words, and where once stood a proud mountain, there were now only ruins, crumbling down as his entire world fell apart.

'_Madara! You should've looked after your brother!'_

"I'm… I'm so sorry…." Only a pathetic whisper escaped his lips, his hand gripping his hair so tight he was nearly ripping it out as the other clutched at the carpet – tears falling down and staining it soundlessly.

Whose tears, he couldn't tell.

_A frown at his mother's reprimanding, while his younger brother cried over his injury. He couldn't help it, really, how could he have known Izuna would lose his footing?_

'_Why did you let him go like that?' _

"I didn't know…."

'_He said he could handle it! Right, Izuna? Didn't you say that?'_

'_That's no excuse! Now apologize.' _

"Izuna–"

' –_I'm sorry.' _

_His younger brother, despite the pain, smiled brightly through the tears._

"Izuna…."

'_It's okay. I forgive you.' _

He clasped his hand on his mouth, suppressing the cry that had threatened to escape his lips. What was there left for him now? What was he worth, not being able to protect the ones closest to him? What was this world worth, without his brother's light to brighten its days?

Any attempt to calm himself failed, as the tears kept streaming down his cheeks as he panted heavily, gasping for more and more air with each breath as it felt like it was never enough. Time passed by without his notice, and even long after his heart had hardened and his sorrowful gaze had turned empty and he had stopped panting and his hands had stopped shaking – he sat there, gazing up at the portrait which seemed to be from another world to him now. A happier, carefree world.

The day had already faded into night when he got up to his feet.

Where once a proud mountain had crumbled into dust, there now stood a single gravestone.

He shut the world out.

* * *

"He's dead?" Hashirama repeated in complete befuddlement. One of his closer friends was leaning against the doorway of his study room, a stoic expression on her face as usual. Tōka had light brown eyes and dark hair which she always tied in the most intricate knot high on her head. She'd just given the news of Izuna Uchiha's death. This blindsided him completely, as he'd just spoken to the man a few days ago and he'd seemed as healthy as could be. It must've been in battle, then.

"Enemy ambush. They were dealt with accordingly, but it resulted in his death." she told him in a business-like manner, though after several years Hashirama had grown used to that. This, he figured, had to be the most horrible news to Madara. He could not imagine the pain he had to be in, and a most urgent craving to see how he was doing gripped his heart – but he knew he could not just simply swing by for a visit that casually, especially since he'd be in a time of mourning. But he wanted to see him, sooner or later, it didn't matter. Hashirama was a patient man, but also a _very _determined one – he _would _see him, no matter what.

"I see. When is his funeral?" he asked nonetheless, his mask perfectly in place.

"Fairly soon, I'd imagine." She eyed him suspiciously. "Why? You're not thinking of _attending _it, are you?"

"Of course not." Hashirama dismissed, almost laughing at the very notion. He was certain he wouldn't be welcome even if he wanted to, so no, he'd definitely not been considering something like that.

He _had _thought of visiting after the funeral, however. Well, as far as visits go, you'd basically had to knock on their door and tell them to get whomever you wanted to speak to – they were very strict about who they let in their compound, and _no _Senju was on the approved-visitors-list.

"Good. You've been awfully friendly with the Uchiha lately." Tōka noted, folding her arms with a mild frown on her face, making her clan leader sigh.

"Thank you for your concern, Tōka, but my brother is doing a well enough job of complaining about that, so I don't need you aiding him."

"We're just trying to look out for you." she snorted, turning around to leave again. "By the way, there's been some trouble brewing near the western border. Probably just some bandits, but you might want to see the reports just to be sure." she said, pulling out a scroll and throwing it on his desk. "Also, the Hyuuga clan have been complaining about the Sarutobi clan again."

"I'll take care of it." Hashirama said without hesitation, and his friend raised her eyebrows, then sighed.

"One of these days, you're going to work yourself to death." she scoffed. "At least let those Uchiha take care of the bandits. Weren't _they _supposed to be the village's main offensive power?"

"Now don't make it sound like they've been sitting around and done nothing." She pursed her lips at his steely gaze.

"I didn't say that." she replied with an affronted look.

"Then there's nothing more to talk about." he spoke flatly, his commanding tone immediately ending that conversation.

"Fine."

"I'll send a message to them in the afternoon." he added, skimming over the report concerning the bandits and laying it aside, his desk a chaos of papers scattered about. He was getting much too sloppy with his belongings lately.

"Another thing – take a day off." He raised an eyebrow at his friend's remark.

"You're pushing it, Tōka."

"Right, fine, I'll leave now. Just don't say I didn't warn you when you pass out due to exhaustion." she said a little annoyed, realizing there was no talking sense into him and left, closing the door behind her. Hashirama leaned back in his chair, his thoughts immediately wandering over to a place they had no business wandering over to. Or rather, a person.

Ever since he'd _acknowledged _these completely irrational and hopeless feelings – emphasis on acknowledged, which didn't mean he'd quite accepted it yet – he had a better time sleeping. Well, the process of falling asleep was a different matter entirely and the most ridiculous thoughts would haunt him relentlessly. But when he did eventually fall asleep, at least he didn't wake up a half hour later covered in sweat and completely disoriented, not to mention... uncomfortable, so to speak. This had happened when he'd tried to repress it. It seemed living life like a normal person became easier the more he faced his own desires. Though, everyday tasks such as the simple cleaning up of his desk had been completely neglected, being much too distracted to even care.

But what hope was there now? He'd fallen too far to snap back out of it and the rest of his life was going to be absolutely miserable. This was not just a simple attraction anymore. A gut-wrenching feeling gnawed at him as he realized the object of his affections was suffering, and he could do nothing to relieve the pain. He put his hand against his forehead, starting to feel utterly frustrated. If only he could just _will _himself to stop being such a fool, he'd be much better off – though he realized, trying to blow out the fire in his heart was probably going to be near impossible.

He'd just had to wait it out, and if not even time could make it disappear, well, then the rest of his life was going to be a pain.

"Brother!" Tobirama's voice interrupted his train of thought as he heard his footsteps from down the corridor. "The Hyuuga and the Sarutobi–"

"Yes, yes, I heard." Hashirama replied, getting up from his seat as his sibling walked in. "What happened now?"

"Some complaints about the Sarutobi being too noisy. You might want to look into it before it gets out of hand, and knowing Sasuke, it probably will." Tobirama explained, and Hashirama did his best not to roll his eyes. Of course, Sasuke Sarutobi was one who got offended rather easily, but the Senju clan leader would rather not have a fight in the middle of a newly-built village, especially with such fragile alliances being all that kept it together in the first place. Hashirama looked his brother over and couldn't help but make a remark.

"I'm surprised you aren't drunk yet." Tobirama scowled at this.

"There was a _wedding_!"

"You weren't even invited."

"Ah, but I wasn't _disinvited_ either. Besides, everyone there was too wasted to care anyway." Hashirama just shook his head and left his room, his brother right behind him. "You should try to live a little. You know, I've seen plenty of single women who basically worship the ground you walk on."

"How many times must I tell you I'm not interested?"

"About seventy-two times more, and maybe then I'll get the message."

"So you're suggesting, what? Being more like you?"

"Why not?"

"There's more to life than training and socializing day and night, little brother." If you were ever looking for Tobirama, there were two places he was guaranteed to be in. If not one, then definitely the other; right outside the village in a wide field, often used as a training ground, or any social event near you. Meanwhile, Hashirama would be running around the village fixing everyone's problems, and it could _partially _count as socializing, though it exhausted him quite a bit and was starting to strain his patience. Half the time it would be something petty.

Such as noise complaints.

"For all your talk about women, you seem awfully lonely." Hashirama noted casually, to which Tobirama responded to with an irritated glare.

"Oi, oi – I just don't want to be committed yet. Don't jump to conclusions. "

"One of these days, _someone _is going to tame you and chain you down. Mark my words." It wasn't like he was a ladies' man or anything of the sort, but he did criticize Hashirama's love life an awful lot for someone who didn't even have one of their own.

"We'll see about that." Tobirama scoffed, crossing his arms as they exited the main building, getting outside. It was sunny like always, though there was also a pretty harsh breeze. They continued walking and soon enough they could hear the arguing going on just a block away. The two exchanged glances and quickly made their way towards the ruckus. What they saw there was an angry Sasuke Sarutobi yelling at an angry Hideki Hyuuga. Hashirama sighed and made his way over to the quarreling pair, Tobirama following from close behind.

"Hashirama! Good, you're here! Tell this guy to back off and stop his whining." Sasuke demanded, the brunette Sarutobi obviously annoyed as he glowered at the dark haired Hyuuga, who crossed his arms indignantly as the Senju leader approached the two.

"What are you two arguing about _now_?" Hashirama asked, completely ignoring Sasuke's initial statement. It was a known fact Hideki and Sasuke did not get along for one bit – the slightest remark was enough to set the other off immediately.

Quite frankly, Hashirama had had enough of their immaturity.

"I have a newborn child trying to sleep, but she can't because these Sarutobi insisted on causing a ridiculous amount of noise!" Hideki spat scornfully, to which Sasuke narrowed his eyes. The Sarutobi were with five – two of them holding a bottle of sake – and the Hyuuga were with three.

"Oh please, we were just passing by the damn district! You're exaggerating way too much!"

"Listen here, I'm done putting up with your disingenuous bullshit–"

"My disingenuous bullshit?! Oh, those are big words coming from such a pile of sanctimonious cr–"

"_Enough_." Hashirama said exasperatedly, not wanting to deal with such a trivial issue while he could be doing something more practical with his time. "Sasuke, you should've known better than taking your little party to this part of the village. But of course, Hideki, I think we can all agree they had no way of knowing they were disturbing your child. Both of you are in the wrong and instead of acting like children I suggest you apologize and let it go. It's an embarrassment to your clans and the village itself to see you acting like this." The two both scowled at him, but in silence, and finally seemed to acknowledge their shameful behavior. Tobirama smirked and slapped his Sarutobi friend on the shoulder.

"Come on, Sasuke. Just say you're sorry and we'll get out of here." he persuaded him, and the man sighed, looking at Hideki.

"I apologize for causing you any trouble." he stated dully.

"Right. I also apologize for overreacting." the Hyuuga replied stiffly. The two glared at each other for a moment longer before the short Sarutobi snorted.

"Let's go." he huffed to his friends, and turned to Tobirama. "Are you coming too?"

"Sure." He nodded to his brother and left with the cheerful company. Hashirama let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead as he tried to push the sleepiness away.

"If I may, you look rather tired. Perhaps you should take a rest?" Hideki suggested as he looked him over, but the Senju leader smiled mildly and shook his head.

"Don't worry about me, Hideki. I'm fine."

"Well, it is hard not to. You are the pillar of this village, after all. Had you not been here I doubted this place would've lasted for even two days."

"I suppose, but it's only through the cooperation with the Uchiha that this place came to be." Hashirama replied with a slight frown, starting to grow irritated at how all praise was directed towards him when he was just the half of a pair that had built this place.

"That may be true, but you are far more involved in the village's internal affairs. Of course they have done an excellent job of defending and being the main offensive power, but they're not exactly as popular as the Senju."

"So I've noticed." He cut the conversation short, not wishing to hear anymore of this. Even if the Uchiha didn't show as much care for Konoha as others did, talk about it with affection as others did, the effort they had put to keep this place safe with all the numerous enemies they'd eliminated spoke much louder than their words. It frustrated Hashirama that others couldn't see this, as it was entirely unfair towards them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to take care of."

"Of course." Hideki said with a short nod, and Hashirama turned around and walked off, deciding to get something to eat – though taking a break was the last thing on his mind, even if his body seemed to be in need of some relaxation. On his way back, naturally, he ran into three women, one the Sarutobi girl who worked in the dango shop – and he still didn't know her name. Pleasantries were exchanged, and this time Hashirama paid more attention to their behavior and manner of talking as he remembered what he and Madara had talked about a few days ago.

To his surprise, he noted that they smiled and giggled at most of what he said, even if it wasn't intended as being humorous or flattering in any way. Usually he could read others perfectly – he'd simply hadn't thought of things like love before so he'd just dismissed their behavior before and ignored it, always greeting everyone with a warm smile and a friendly gaze, not realizing he'd probably been sending unintended signals. The oh so short girl (he vaguely wondered why the Sarutobi always tended to be short) even invited him to a night out. Before, he would've accepted out of courtesy. Now, he didn't think it was a good idea.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to spare this evening." he declined politely, and her smile fell from her face. Then, the most genius idea struck him. "I'm sure my brother, however, would be more than happy to attend." The three girls seemed surprised.

"Is that so? We thought of asking him but he… um, has quite the presence." He could understand how Tobirama might've come off as intimidating – the man always tended to be quite passionate about, well, everything.

"Once you get to know him I'm sure your opinion will change." he assured the ladies, and with that took his leave, pondering about this new discovery (and also mildly amused at the prospect of Tobirama being tamed by one of the three women – Sarutobi women tended to be quite fierce). So Madara _had _been right. Well, of course he'd been right, he was Madara Uchiha after all, but that was not the point.

It concerned him that he'd been unknowingly "flirting" with women by just being friendly and polite. He supposed in this day and age, most men tended to be rather stiff and almost business-like with the opposite gender, but he didn't have that problem at all. With his natural charisma he could get along with anyone – a fact that had been proven to the entire village when they'd seen him actually get along with the most hostile Uchiha of them all and even making him _chuckle_.

However, it did make him wonder what his image was amongst women. He'd never much been interested to know about it before, but now he didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. Or rather, he didn't want Madara to get the wrong impression. Lord knows how many rumors he'd already heard.

So when he saw Tōka outside, he didn't hesitate to walk over to her and ask her if there were any rumors about him. She was a little puzzled at first.

"What kind of rumors?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I was just curious as to what the general opinion on me is among women." She was silent before a moment, and the corners of her mouth twitched, almost like she wanted to burst out in laughter. Instead she merely shook her head.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"You're the most wanted man in the village. If I got a coin for every time I heard a woman swooning for the _oh so handsome and charming Senju leader_, I would have enough money to buy the damn country." Hashirama blinked.

"That's what they say about me?"

"You have _no _idea." Tōka said with a sigh. "Honestly, you should stop being so friendly all the time. You're giving people the wrong impression."

"What kind of impression?"

"Of… well, being a ladies' man."

"I'm _not_–"

"I know, I know, I'm just repeating what I heard." she said quickly as Hashirama scowled. His annoyance, however, instantly turned into concern as he wondered if Madara had heard these rumors. What must he have thought of him? This was utterly embarrassing – no wonder he'd questioned him about his "flirtatious" behavior. Though Hashirama had fixed that image. Sort of. Now it seemed the man was under the impression that he was mainly attracted to other men.

Well, it had _some _truth to it.

'_No, no, no, no – ah, forget it. There's no point in lying to myself.' _

He supposed he'd just have to deal with the fact that he was probably going to have the most miserable love life possible. He was going to end up married, pretending to be happy while in fact he was completely depressed, have children he'd have to take care of even though the idea of having children had never even appealed to him before, and he'd watch Madara do the same thing – but he'd be far happier than Hashirama, and at least that was the one bright side of this future waiting to happen.

He shook his head at his own pessimism, which was otherwise completely unlike him. He'd get over this at some point, right? He'd yet to see a wound that even time could not heal, but he knew that from now on his interactions with Madara were probably going to be a lot more awkward.

Despite this, he'd set his mind on seeing him after his brother's funeral.

After all, true friends never let you suffer alone.

* * *

**So, this chapter was… depressing. And filler-ish.**

**Expect a shit ton of romance tension/drama/what-have-you next chapter as Hashirama pays a visit to our favorite dissident Uchiha! Sort of. A bottle of sake is involved – that's all you need to know.**

**Also, this concludes the **_**Flower arc. **_**The next arc is… well, I have no idea. Freestyle time, I suppose.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and left me some awesome feedback! I really appreciate it guys!**

**Hope you leave me a review! See ya next time! **


	11. Greed

**Greed**

"Then where is he?" Hashirama asked with a slight frown as the two Uchiha exchanged glances, after he'd asked them to see their clan leader. He was right in front of the compound with no intention to enter. Three weeks had passed, and there had been no sign of Madara anywhere, even though his brother's funeral had already passed. Hashirama had waited a few days, not wanting to intrude during a sensitive time, but had figured that a whole week was enough time. He still felt a little anxious, but he couldn't wait any longer.

However, it seemed he wasn't even home at the moment, and no one knew where he was.

"He said he'd be back by tomorrow at most, though we do not know where he went."

"I see." He decided sticking around wasn't going to make Madara magically appear, so he left the compound as he mulled over the locations the man could be at the moment. He doubted it would be anywhere with people around. An isolated area – but where? There were so many spots in Konoha which were dead quiet if you just searched hard enough. As he pondered this, he started walking the muddy path towards the south, the ground moist from it having just rained. He briefly wondered if Madara had stayed outside with the cloudy weather. Hashirama himself had been caught in it, and his thin clothes were completely soaked and sticking to his skin, just like his hair which stuck to his face. He wiped it away annoyed, not having expected such a sudden rain as it had been your usual hot summer day just that morning. It was also the one day he'd decided to take a rest – and here he was, using it by trying to track down Madara Uchiha.

It couldn't be helped, in the end. As a friend (and here the tiniest part of him was still naively clutching to the slim, slim, _slim _possibility he could be something more) he couldn't bring himself to see the Uchiha leader lock himself away from the world like this.

His walk was mostly silent, only the chirping of the birds and the soft crunches of his footsteps interrupting any sort of quietness. He was content just staring ahead of him for a while, letting all his thoughts float away as he enjoyed the tranquility. The grass was green, the sky was blue (albeit clouded), the sun was shining (when said clouds didn't hide it), the birds sounded happy enough and all was well within the village. He should've taken that moment to rest.

That was, until he heard the sound of streaming water nearby. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at his left. Indeed, there was the Naka River, meandering through the landscape as it ran right through the Uchiha clan's territory.

'_Wait, the Naka River? Madara said something about that, didn't he?' _Hashirama thought as he gazed at the river, and remembered about their bet. Madara had seemed quite fond of this river, so if he were to go look for the man anywhere, the most likely place would be here. Puzzled as to why he hadn't thought of it before, he walked near the river, and followed it downstream, further away from the village. He had to admit, though it couldn't compete with his garden, it was a quite impressive sight. The sound of the water instilled a kind of serenity within you, and the flora and fauna around it was lively and blooming wonderfully. He followed it for what seemed like centuries, and sighed, almost wanting to give up when he, after twenty minutes, still hadn't seen anything of him and had passed the borders of the village now. That was, until he saw a speck of black from his peripheral vision. Just a speck, but notable enough to draw his attention.

There, right across the river, almost completely hidden under the dark shade of a large tree he sat against, was the man he'd been looking for. He looked just as drenched as Hashirama was, sitting there in his casual outfit, his high-collared black shirt left open to partially reveal his well-toned chest. One leg was pulled up, his arm resting on it as he held what seemed to be a sake cup in it, and there was a bottle right next to him. Hashirama's mouth was suddenly completely dry and he had a hard time swallowing as he admired the stunning sight that greeted him. Madara turned his head in his direction, and saw him. Hashirama was completely dumbstruck when he saw no red like he usually did. Coal black eyes, darker than his hair, somehow, _somehow_, piercing through him moreso than his Sharingan did. But this was only the second thing he saw. The first thing he saw, was how completely empty the look in those eyes was. Even if they pierced right through him, they contained nothing – like the sharp edge of a sword. No emotion, simply existing, cold and steely. It didn't feel right.

"I was wondering when you'd find me." Madara spoke, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rushing river. Hashirama frowned slightly as he observed him a few seconds longer, before taking a long leap and crossing the river, landing effortlessly on his feet. He approached the man slowly with an unwavering and somewhat concerned gaze, though the rest of his face betrayed no emotion.

"You were expecting me?" he questioned. Madara stared him right in the eyes, and then looked away.

"Of course. You never disappoint me." was the cool response, the tone of it sounding like Hashirama had just asked the most silly question in the world. As if it was completely natural, for him to go looking for the man. As if… was he implying something? No, he was probably just over-thinking it.

"How long have you been here?"

"Who knows." Madara answered all too casually, glancing up at him. "Are you going to keep standing there or come claim your prize?" Hashirama, for a moment, was confused, until Madara grabbed the sake bottle from the ground and threw it up at him.

"Ah. The bet." Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he sat down next to the man, his gaze fixated on the sake bottle. He did not – could not – look directly at him now. He was far too close and he wasn't sure he could keep all his feelings hidden away if they locked eyes for longer than a few seconds.

Either way, this didn't feel right. He seemed so oddly nonchalant about the whole thing – no, nonchalant wasn't the right word. Closed off. It almost felt like he'd isolated himself from the rest of the world, and the look in his eyes was not only empty, but hardened and distant as well. He'd been wondering what Izuna's death had done to Madara, and so far it didn't look too good.

"Aren't you going to drink?" Madara asked him, interrupting his train of thought. Hashirama briefly looked at him as Madara stared into his sake cup. There was water in it, probably having dripped down from the leaves directly above them. He threw the water out of the cup and held it out in front of Hashirama with an expectant look, seeing as how the older man made no movements to drink. Indeed, Hashirama felt no desire to drink. First of all, it was in the middle of day-time. Second, he wasn't sure he'd like to drink straight out the bottle.

"So, how've you been doing?" Hashirama asked instead while filling the cup with the bottle – it never even struck him as odd how Madara expected him to share his prize, nor that he himself had not even hesitated for a moment to comply.

"Fine."

"You're a liar." Madara tensed and shot him a fierce glare, but Hashirama wasn't going to back down and intrepidly met the gaze head on.

"Save me your pity. Death is natural." after saying that, Madara downed his sake in one shot, putting the cup down next to him and turned his upper body to face Hashirama with a furious gaze. Hashirama studied his features for a moment, noting his skin looked paler than it usually was and the creases under his eyes were more prominent than usual, most likely due to sleeplessness and exhaustion.

"But it hasn't been this close to your heart before, has it?" he remarked softly, which only angered Madara more.

"_Shut up_."

"You don't need to put up a front in front of me, Madara."

"A front?" Madara scoffed, scowling deeply at this. "You have no business questioning me like this."

"Perhaps not, but I'll do it anyway. Avoiding the world isn't going to make it stop spinning." He remained silent at Hashirama's words, lower lip trembling for a moment until the corners of his mouth cracked into a bitter, mocking smile. It looked so wrong on that face – and Hashirama was so tempted to make it disappear with his own lips.

"Who do you think you are?" Madara demanded to know, shaking his head in disbelief. "Because we shared a few drinks you think you have the right to tell me what to do, is that it? I guess I've been too soft with you."

"No, most certainly not. If you don't want to talk about it, I'll respect that, but don't pretend to be fine in front of me and hide behind a mask." When Madara looked away with an angered look in his eyes, he reached his hand out instinctively. He didn't even realize what he was doing, but he didn't want those eyes to break contact. His fingers cupped the other's chin, and turned his head, forcing those dark eyes to meet his own. "I can see right through it." Hashirama murmured softly, and only then realized, as Madara's eyes widened considerably, as his breath nearly hitched, how close he was – so close, he could almost feel the young man's breath brush his lips, so close, _just a little bit closer _– and he quickly let go, pulling back before the pleasant chill running down his spine and the warmth in his lower region overpowered his better judgment. And Madara was left nearly breathless, and Hashirama felt breathless, and he wasn't sure what had happened, but it had been _too close, _and it had left his heart pounding.

Madara let out a sigh, sliding a hand through his still moist hair and wiping locks out of his face. He, somewhat brusquely, snatched the bottle out of Hashirama's other hand – having discarded his sake cup, and took a large sip out of it. Hashirama blinked at this, and Madara swallowed down quite an amount. Completely unperturbed, he handed the bottle back, leaving Hashirama staring at his perfectly stoic face.

"You really are something else." the young Uchiha clan leader eventually muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. There it was again, that damn sentence, and just like last time, he had no idea whether it was a compliment or an insult. There was a definite tension in the air after that. Hashirama wasn't sure whether to continue the conversation, but decided that the silence was worse and spoke up again.

"How long are you planning on staying here?" he asked as he stared at the bottle he held in his hands.

"How long are you planning on staying with me?" Madara replied plainly.

"However long it takes." With this, the Uchiha stayed silent for a moment.

"I'll have to head back when the sun goes down." he decided, and Hashirama nodded. He, eventually, put the bottle to his lips – and he almost savored the moment, knowing that not a moment ago Madara's lips had been pressed on the same exact spot. It was obsessive and ridiculous and juvenile – but it pleased him nonetheless.

Before long, with both of them drinking out of it, the bottle was empty. Madara seemed a little out of it, and Hashirama deduced he'd probably had a few drinks before he arrived as well. Though, he could also just be a horrible drinker as Hashirama only felt a mild, almost unnoticeable buzz. Then again, it didn't really matter whether they were sober or not – in both situations, they enjoyed each other's company.

"Why do you care so much?" Madara suddenly questioned, acting more brazen under the influence of the alcohol, but otherwise didn't show any effects of being drunk. Hashirama wasn't sure how to answer this, and leaned back against the tree. "What am I to you, Hashirama?" The soft tone caught him off guard, but he was determined not to indulge himself in his foolish desires.

"You are my greatest rival, but also my friend."

"You have a lot of friends. What makes me so different that you'd come looking for me?"

"I…." He was about to respond with some mundane platitude, until he realized what was underneath these questions. Madara was looking for a bond. Not for support, or help, but a simple sense of security – the assurance there was still someone there that made it all worth it in the end. Hashirama knew he was an isolated figure even in his own clan, and now with his brother gone… it made sense. With a smile that had probably been a little too affectionate than had been intended, Hashirama answered.

"You're irreplaceable." Madara met his gaze, his eyes widened for a moment. Hashirama managed to tear his gaze away. "Besides, you're not just any friend, you're a very treasured one. I can't imagine anyone else telling me to shut up like that." he added as he stared listlessly at the river, still feeling Madara's eyes fixated on him.

"I see." he spoke softly – thoughtfully. "Haven't you grown tired of this place yet?" he suddenly asked, prompting the Senju leader to look at him again. His _treasured _friend held a frown on his face, and looked a little conflicted by some internal war going on in his head.

"No, of course not." he replied without thinking, and Madara seemed annoyed.

"Do you not miss the battles we used to have?"

"We could spar whenever you want to."

"No, that's different." Madara dismissed the thought, shaking his head. "I meant the thrill of knowing any moment could be your last, knowing the slightest mistake could cost you your life, the adrenaline, the excitement – don't you miss that at all?" Hashirama pondered this for a moment. The tranquil life in the village had been quite boring at times, but he never regretted it, even if he did miss the fierce fights of the past.

"I suppose so." he agreed somewhat. "But I gladly traded it for this life. Don't you think it was worth it?" he then asked Madara, looking him over. A drop of water fell down on his pale cheek, and he wiped at it with the back of his hand, annoyed. Hashirama suppressed a smile – thinking of this as a rather cute gesture.

Cute.

Now there was a word he should never use again when referring to Madara Uchiha – and certainly not out loud in his presence or it could very well cost him his head.

"Hn." Madara, choosing not to respond in that Uchiha-esque way of his, folded his arms. It amused Hashirama a little, which in turn irritated Madara even more. "Shouldn't you be heading back soon? Surely the little sheep are missing their shepherd by now." he scoffed, referring to the villagers.

"Right now, you're more important." Hashirama responded without thinking, then froze, wondering if he'd said too much. From Madara's flustered look, it seemed like he had. There followed a very awkward silence, and Hashirama scolded himself mentally for letting that slip. But, he did not disregard the glances Madara shot at him every now and then – and that tiny part inside of him kept wondering, _hoping_, that maybe his feelings weren't completely hopeless after all. He scowled and sighed, getting rid of that hopelessly optimistic thought.

"If I were to leave this place, would you come after me?" Hashirama blinked, turning to Madara again, who had his gaze locked on him.

"Do you want to leave?"

"Just answer me." Madara grunted, not in the mood to deal with that question.

"Of course I would."

"Is this because I'm important to you, or to the village?"

"Both."

"What if you had to choose?" Hashirama shook his head.

"Where did all of this suddenly come from? Madara, if you're thinking of leaving–"

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't!" he snarled unexpectedly angry, startling Hashirama for a second. "Now answer my question." The Senju leader took his time, even though he already knew the answer. His sense of honor, of responsibility, was much too strong to let his own feelings get in the way of his duty. So if in this hypothetical situation, Madara turned out to be a threat to the village, he could see no other option but to stop him, one way or another. He just hoped it would never come to that point, but it could be a possibility in Madara's current state. Even if Hashirama could see he was hurting inside, he couldn't see nor imagine how great that sorrow must be.

"You already know the answer." Hashirama murmured, leaning his head back against the tree as the sun was beginning to set. Madara stayed quiet. "But that won't happen." Madara snapped his head up to stare at him, and Hashirama smiled. "I would never let you leave." Something flashed in those eyes, and Hashirama just wished he could've seen it a moment longer as he didn't exactly know what it had been – and though he relaxed a little more, his light frown turned deeper and he looked even more conflicted than before. Then, what Madara revealed to him next in such a soft tone it was almost a whisper, completely blew him away.

"I don't think you realize what you do to me."

That one sentence was all it took to turn him into stone. Hashirama swore his heart stopped for a moment as he took in what had just been said, and his brain started working in overdrive, wondering, thinking, hoping–

Madara refused to look at him, and slowly stood up from the ground, wiping the grass and mud off the back of his pants. His facial features smooth, not betraying a single thing, but the look in his eyes was complete turmoil. The black swirled, and turned red, the oh so familiar pattern of the Sharingan returning – and the walls were starting to rebuild themselves around him. He only glanced at Hashirama once, before he started walking away.

"Wait," Hashirama called out, scrambling up and immediately following him. Madara was being more reckless with his words than usual; no doubt the effect of the alcohol. "What did you mean by that?"

This was stupid. He was hoping for something impossible.

Madara refused to look at him as he responded. "What do you think?" he huffed in a frustrated manner, the scowl returning to his face.

"I don't… I'm not sure."

"Then forget about it. It was a slip of the tongue."

See? Impossible, and yet, he held on.

"I hardly think–" Madara spun around on his feet, abruptly having come to a halt and Hashirama nearly bumped into him. Instead he too stopped immediately, acutely aware of how close they were standing near each other. Madara didn't seem to care as he glared up at him.

"What do you want me to say?" he hissed angrily, not moving an inch. "What are you expecting me to say?"

"I just want to know what you meant by that." Hashirama responded as calmly as he could.

In the meantime, his head was spinning.

"I meant exactly what I said. _You _don't know what you're doing to me."

"Then tell me!"

That came out a little louder than he'd intended. A little too hopeful, a little too forceful, but he wasn't sure he could hold it back any longer.

"This is ridiculous." Madara eventually uttered, glowering at him. "I should be feeling miserable; I should be mourning. Who do you think you are, making me forget?!" he growled, starting to grow really angry. Hashirama wasn't sure what to do.

"I didn't mean to intrude on you, but you didn't send me away either." he retorted, not knowing what else to say, and inside, he wondered what this meant. He'd made him forget…? He made him feel better, then? Was Madara angry about feeling better? He supposed that was the case – on one hand, he was frustrated Madara wanted to torture himself over something that wasn't his fault, and on the other, he was ecstatic that he'd actually made him feel better, even if it was just a little.

"Fine, that was my mistake!" Madara snapped with such ferocity Hashirama was taken aback for a moment. He was really hurting. "But_ you_ – you say the most careless things, not thinking twice about what they might really mean, and you have no right to…." He trailed off, putting a hand to his forehead as he closed his eyes and breathed heavily, and Hashirama stood completely still.

The little ember of hope inside his chest had turned into a small flame.

Hesitantly, he reached out with his hand, and touched the other's shoulder. Only when he gripped it gently, did Madara look up at him again, the look in his eyes a mixture of befuddlement and anger.

"I meant everything I said." Hashirama told him in a clear voice, and Madara's eyes widened. Their eyes locked, and neither could look away. Suddenly, the look in Madara's eyes darkened, and he lowered his gaze.

"What am I to you?" he repeated the question he'd asked a while ago. This time, however, it had a very different tone to it. Hashirama was breathless for a moment, just praying this was what he thought it was.

This was his one chance to find out. This was the one opportunity he'd get, and they both knew it. This was the moment he let it all go, out in the open.

But his lips were sealed shut. When it came down to it, he couldn't do it.

"I…." Hesitation. This only caused more anger. Madara gritted his teeth, and he grabbed Hashirama's shirt, pulling him even closer so that their noses were nearly touching.

"_What am I to you?!_" he snarled, impatient and angry and frustrated – and Hashirama still couldn't say it. "What do you want from me?! Just say it!" he was nearly screaming now, and he didn't know why he wanted to hear it, but he needed to – some sort of security, some sort of reassurance, some form of a bond that was stronger than just a friendship, something, _anything_, that still tied him to this place, and he was angry – but also desperate, above all else. He had no one left, and he knew his clan would turn its back on him sooner or later, and he would drown in his sorrow, and his anger would grow, and grow (_'For what did my brother die? For this place? For these people?!') _and grow–

But he didn't want that. So he sought for the only reaction from the only person in the world who could turn him away from that fate.

Still, Hashirama couldn't say it. He didn't know why, and maybe it didn't matter, because if he couldn't say it, he would show it.

He pried Madara's hands off his shirt, and pulled him in a warm embrace without a second thought, his arms wrapped around Madara's back, burying his face in his pale neck and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his wild hair. He savored the moment, because he knew it could be over any second now, and yet he couldn't remember a time where he'd felt any happier. Madara froze completely, feeling the other's warm breath brush his skin as his heart was pounding in his chest and his shoulders tensed. His eyes were wide, and he simply stood there, letting himself be embraced. He had his answer – what now? He couldn't relax, as it had been such a long time he'd been embraced by anyone. Hashirama was warm, he could feel the heat even through the fabric of their clothes, he could feel it from his breath tickling his neck, and his touch was gentle. He let out the breath he'd been holding, and slowly eased in to the hug. It felt nice. No, far more than that. It was comforting, and more than enough reassurance he needed.

Too much.

For a moment, he let himself enjoy it. Just for a moment, he pulled his hands up, and put them on Hashirama's back. Just for a moment. Then he pulled back, almost gently pushing the other away – because he couldn't let himself enjoy it for too long. He had his answer, he had his security, but going any further than this felt like a betrayal to his brother. Any further than this didn't feel right. Not with him, not with the man he had such a gruesome history with.

Neither of them said a word. Neither of them even looked at each other. There was only the sound of the rushing water, the rustling of the leaves and their breathing. They didn't know where to go after this, and their whole situation had just reached a whole new level of unease.

"You should head back." Madara spoke quietly, still not looking at him. Hashirama only glanced at him for a second before looking away again, almost with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Don't stay out here too long."

"I won't."

They had nothing more to say, and so Hashirama started walking away. In the end, he hadn't told him anything, even if there were so many things he wanted him to know. When it came down to it, he'd shut down. As he walked away with a heavy heart, wondering how this ridiculous situation could _ever _work out, he stared up at the sky which had darkened. It was evening, and no doubt his brother was wondering where he'd disappeared off to.

Still, even if he didn't see how they could ever be content with such fleeting moments with nothing spoken and everything ignored, he was satisfied. No, more than that, he was happy – and for a second, he thought Madara had been happy as well. Besides, this had been quite the progress, even if it had taken quite some time. Wasn't that good enough for both of them? He decided that no, it wasn't good enough. It was not nearly enough to satisfy him.

He'd always want more.

* * *

**So… does this make up for the misery in the last chapter?**

**And, no, it's certainly not going to be smooth sailing for these two from now on. **

**I love all you awesome reviewers – wasn't going to write this so soon, but here it is, all because of your great comments!**

**That was it for today, I'll see ya next time!**

**Bye-bye!**


	12. Taste

**Taste**

When he finally got back to the Uchiha compound he was soaked, the weather having decided to go make another turn for the second time that day. He ignored all his subordinates, not interested in hearing any of their pointless chatter. The water dripped from his clothes as he trudged towards his house, entering and being greeted by Momo, who mewed loudly for some attention. He promptly ignored the annoying creature, having far more important matters on his mind. Instead he immediately stalked off to his bedroom, nearly slamming the sliding door shut which caused the cat to jump and flee at the sudden movement. Utterly frustrated, he pulled his wet shirt off, throwing it down to the ground and walked over to his closet, opening it and snatching out a towel which he slung over his shoulders as dropped down to the floor, sitting down as he slid his hands through his hair, which annoyingly stuck to his skin. He started drying his hair as he thought about the day.

Madara was very much disgusted with himself at the moment.

How could he have let himself go like that? He lost control in a moment of insane desperation and had given into his weakness – it was unforgivable and repulsive and he could never, _should never_ let something like that happen again. Even if it had felt good in the moment, even if it had given him relief, in the long run it wasn't worth it. He couldn't deny it any longer; his body craved for Hashirama. There was an intense longing, such hunger and lust that could not be suppressed, and he absolutely hated it.

The worst thing was, he didn't even know _why_. Had this been born from his respect for the man after all those battles? Had this started from a physical attraction? Had it been brewing under his skin ever since he met him? What had prompted it to grow? Was it the undeniably handsome looks or the strong-willed and dependent personality?

Madara buried his face in his hands as he realized it was all of the above. Not a thing, not a quality he could find in the man that didn't attract him. Even if his trusting nature and idealistic view frustrated him, he admired it all the same. Even if that kind gaze he saw every now and then made him feel like running, it made him feel wanted all the same – as if he belonged. But he also felt, and knew, that it could never be. How could he himself ever consider… and just a mere few weeks after his brother's funeral? It felt like a betrayal, not only to Izuna but his clan and his honor as well. No matter how desperate he was or how much this cursed feeling in his chest continued to bloom and grow, he couldn't permit himself to give in, not this easily and certainly not without a fight.

It felt nice. He let out a deep sigh, as he at least admitted that to himself. It felt nice to know there was still something that made him care about this world. Even if it was agonizing and infuriating at times – it was still better than numbness. That feeling terrified him above everything else. Pain he could withstand. Sorrow eventually faded. Love was beautiful. Numbness… nothing. Non-existence. A necessary evil at times, but still a frightening one.

He shivered, starting to get cold as he pulled the towel off his head and lied down on the ground, not even bothering to positioning himself on his futon. He turned on his side and stared ahead, not looking at anything in particular. His body remembered the gentle embrace from half an hour ago and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he missed that warmth. He was all alone on the floor of his much too cold house, his pants still wet and hair moist with a bare torso. If he didn't get up and change he might catch a cold – then again, he didn't care enough to as he was far too distracted with his inner musings.

He could almost feel it, if he imagined it in his mind; the feel of Hashirama's skin pressed against his, the scent of his hair and the feel of his warm breath brushing softly over his neck – and his eyes snapped open, alarmed by his own thoughts. Never again. _Never again._

Momo clawed at his door, meowing once again and more loudly this time. He gritted his teeth, utterly irritated with the selfish cat. He briefly considered giving it away to someone else, but then quickly dismissed that thought. Izuna had loved this cat, and he'd be damned if he threw anything out that had been precious to his younger brother.

When Momo started meowing again, Madara snatched the towel up from the ground and threw it against the door – the sudden noise startling the cat and finally making it shut up. With a sigh, he sat up straight and stood up from the ground, walking to his closet once again and pulled out some clothes to sleep in, while he then pulled off the pants as well and quickly changed. His hair was still partly wet, but he was beyond the point of caring at the moment.

So then, he'd firmly established he'd developed an unhealthy desire for his greatest rival.

God, if he could just have a _taste–_

He quickly shook his head, slamming the closet door shut in aggravation, and yet he couldn't help it. It was there, and now he was aware of it, it was only bound to get worse. With a dismal look in his eyes he dropped down on top of his futon, leaning back on his hands as he sat and didn't feel like lying down yet. He knew he was in a vulnerable condition at the moment, so he decided to avoid Hashirama for the next few days as much as possible. He just needed to get his act together and from there ignoring him would be much easier.

Yet his mind refused to cooperate.

He wondered eventually what the Senju leader was thinking. Was this a mutual feeling? He scowled, not sure of the answer to this question. Of course, he'd noticed the few "secret" looks the other had shot him every now and then, but he'd never thought much of it. He'd been used to being looked at like that so he immediately dismissed it. But what if the feeling _was _completely mutual? What if Hashirama wanted him as much as Madara wanted him?

His heart skipped a beat at this thought and if he were able to he would've ripped it out for doing that.

It couldn't be that – yet the embrace from today contradicted it. Why would he… everything he'd said up until now… it was mutual. He was almost a hundred percent sure it was mutual. Had it been with anyone else, Madara would've figured they were just trying to play a trick on him, but he _knew _Hashirama would never do anything like that to anyone. He was an honest and honorable man, after all. He snorted a cynical laugh as something finally hit him.

'_Forbidden fruit, eh?' _

Should he be happy? He wasn't so sure – this could mean the death of both of them. Yet, Hashirama had given in for a moment, hadn't he? He'd almost acknowledged it, at least.

So if they both wanted it–

No, no, he couldn't. _They_ couldn't.

Yet, what if just for _one _night if they gave in, if they just let it all go, maybe it would feel better afterwards? The forbidden fruit would be no more, and then the attraction should be gone, shouldn't it?

Just for one night–

If it was just a taste–

He gritted his teeth as he tried to force the thoughts away, but the more he tried, the more they persisted.

He wanted to taste every inch of his body, he wanted to see him writhe in pleasure beneath him, he wanted to hear him moan his name and beg for more, sweat rolling off his body, hair a tangled mess, legs spread wide–

All oxygen escaped his lungs as a hot feeling built up inside him, his hands nearly tearing into his futon as he shut his eyes; for a moment, losing all his rationality. His pants grew too tight, and without thinking twice his hand grasped the bulge, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth as a wave of pleasure shot through his body. He didn't even know what he was doing anymore; his head was filled with the most erotic fantasies. He imagined caressing that tanned skin, making it shudder under his touch as he had complete control, and a soft groan escaped his lips, the hot feeling kept building and growing, overwhelming all his other senses. And then, for just a second, he wondered what it would be like to be the one lying on his back, or even on his knees – and it was so horribly _wrong_ yet he couldn't bring himself to care because if _felt so damn good. _

He let out a moan – nearly a loud cry – when he reached his climax, not even remembering when his hand had slipped under his garments. He shuddered, shocks of immense pleasure as powerful as lightning pulsating through his body and all thought was completely erased from his mind while he enjoyed the moment – gasping for air as his body tensed.

Sweat rolled off his forehead and he panted, slowly opening his eyes after a few seconds and finally realizing what had just happened.

'_Shit._'

* * *

He didn't know why Tobirama thought lazing around on _his _couch was a good idea, but he was getting pretty tired of it. It was now exactly four days after… well, the little incident near the Naka River, and while he had heard Madara was up and showing his face again, somehow Hashirama seemed to never get a hold of him. They _had _communicated through messengers for some business that needed to be taken care of in the village, but hadn't met face to face. He supposed he should feel awkward, or maybe embarrassed after the brash gesture (hugging your rival wasn't exactly customary, after all), but it seemed he'd moved beyond that point. It seemed he'd even stopped caring about how it came off as – he just wanted to see him again.

Tobirama yawned, and Hashirama's left eye twitched in annoyance.

"Good morning." the younger Senju sibling murmured, rubbing an eye as he'd just woken up from a long nap. When seeing his brother's displeased glare, he blinked, sitting up straight. "What?"

"Get off the couch."

With a bothered grunt Tobirama complied, rubbing his back and then stretching as he did so. "What's with the face?"

"I remember giving you a very specific task, little brother." Hashirama replied, not amused as he crossed his arms with a steely gaze. The other was silent for a moment.

"Ah!" he exclaimed in a Eureka-moment, and for a moment Hashirama considered kicking him out of the house. Perhaps even drag him by the hair while he did so. Luckily, Tobirama pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed this to his brother. "There you go. Can I go back to sleep now?" Hashirama took it and opened it, while scowling at Tobirama who sighed.

It was a map of Konoha, though slightly adjusted. Near the east border of the village, amongst a few still unused buildings, was written the location of where the diplomats of the Uzumaki clan would stay. Naturally, the Senju clan had always had an alliance with them, but they'd yet to make an alliance with the newly founded village official. He looked the location over for the moment, and was pleased with it. It was somewhat close to the Sarutobi clan and the Nara clan, but while he studied the map Tobirama assured him he'd spoken to both clans and they didn't have any issues with sharing the space for a while – and he'd already made plenty of arrangements to prepare the place for the diplomats. Hashirama decided to approve, though he'd have to ask the other founder and get his approval as well.

An excellent excuse to meet him face to face.

He sighed as he realized he was starting to think like a love-struck child.

"When are they due to arrive here, anyway?" Tobirama asked languidly as he sat back down on the couch. Hashirama tucked the map away and shot him a glance.

"In about a week. Maybe shorter, if the weather stays nice." It had been raining for three days but it had stopped and the sun was shining brightly now, though autumn was approaching, bringing with it the clouds and falling leafs.

"Hmm. I should get going, for now." Tobirama then decided, suddenly standing up again. Hashirama raised his eyebrows.

"Where to?"

"I'm experimenting with a new technique." he answered vaguely while he moved towards the door.

"Oh? What kind?"

"I'd rather not tell you until it's finished. I think it may be quite dangerous if not done well."

"Is this another of those space-time ninjutsu you were toying around with?"

"No, not really." Tobirama shot him a wry smile. "You could say it's more like a new sort of summoning." Hashirama scowled, starting to grow suspicious at his brother's evasive answers.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Just give me some time. I'll show it to you eventually." Tobirama reassured him, and while Hashirama still didn't feel entirely at ease, he nodded, trusting his brother in the end. He left and Hashirama sighed, rubbing his forehead while he contemplated the way things were going. He still wanted to see Madara – ever so greedy – and while he did have a good excuse, the village came first. The past few nights had been filled with dreams he'd rather not mention, and he could only rather listlessly guess about the other's feelings towards him while he drowned in his own. It had seemed hopeless in the beginning, but now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he did stand a chance after all? He shook his head.

How the hell was he supposed to find out, anyway? He couldn't exactly be blunt and just _ask _him. In the case he was wrong this would probably forever ruin their friendship – if that hadn't been ruined already. He slid a hand through his hair, glancing at the newly made Konoha forehead protector lying on his table. It had Konoha's official symbol carved into it and all shinobi had been handed one. He vaguely wondered if Madara would ever bring himself to wearing it.

Regardless, if there was even the slightest chance that maybe, just _maybe _ this could somehow work out, even if it was just a one-time thing, he would forever regret it if he didn't try.

Just a taste was all he wanted.

* * *

**Phew! So, this chapter kind of gave off some M-rated vibes, but hell, the site's system has been messed up for a while now so I don't care anymore.**

**It is rather short compared to the past few ones, but it's a brief in-between/aftermath, so to speak. Next chapter will be longer as (FINALLY) Mito will be introduced and shit gets even more dramatic from there. You have been warned.**

**Can anyone guess what technique Tobirama is working on? It's pretty obvious, actually :P**

**Thanks to all the awesome people who were awesome enough to review, also thanks to anyone who fave'd and is following this story! I really love you guys, you know. No lez. Just saying.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! Come on, let's get to that 100-review mark! :D**

**That was that! See ya next time!**


	13. Mutuality

**Mutuality**

Konoha bemused her.

Their arrival was heralded by the bright morning sun, and though they could've been in better shape with the off and on weather for the past few days of their journey, their weariness took a backseat as several pairs of eyes roamed the buildings and the few people who were out on the street. They were received warmly by its citizens – told the leaders of the village would welcome them shortly, which was a relief. They all needed some rest.

One of the few women of the company of about fifteen in total, however, was far too distracted by everything around her to worry over her hair and clothes like her three sisters did. It was simply _extraordinary_, she believed, how one cause could unite so many under the same roof, especially considering a few groups of the inhabitants had such bloody history together. When she'd first heard the news – the very much ridiculous rumor, she'd thought at the time – of the Senju clan and the Uchiha clan's treaty, to say she'd been utterly befuddled was an understatement. Out of all alliances that could've been forged, _these _two clans made one?

Even on her way to the much discussed village she could scarcely believe it to be true, and now, she was here; she was staring it right in the eyes, and it was staring back in her dark blue ones with a friendly smile. Indeed, the entire world had waited for this idealistic town to fall apart. No one knew who would strike first, but they'd all been convinced someone _would _eventually strike and tear everything to shreds, all treaties broken and burned in the reignited flame of bitter war.

Yet, nothing. Months passed, and nothing but good developments from this village – Konohagakure.

"Mito, at least _try _to look presentable!" one of her companions scolded her, interrupting her wonderment. She blinked, almost dazed – as if she had just woken up from a dream, and realized she should at least re-tie her hair. The two little buns were a little too loose, the sunlight reflecting a yellow glow over her bright red locks. While she attempted to fix her hair, she observed the others, who seemed to fuss a little too much for her liking. She glanced at the other women who were already gossiping and fantasizing over the men in the village – more specifically, Hashirama Senju. Oh, she couldn't fault them for that, no. She certainly remembered _him _very clearly.

The still young clan leader of their closest allies. Many had been skeptical, some were impressed. She herself had been merely curious. What kind of man must he have been, to climb to the top of one of the most powerful clans in existence? She would've imagined some sort of monster, some sort of power-hungry dictator, yet he'd been anything but.

A kind smile was all it had taken to utterly convince her. Strong, commanding, yet warm, so very warm. Some unspoken attraction – a force of nature – that charisma of his. How could anyone resist? Was it any surprise such a man had become a leader? Was it any surprise he'd kept together an entire community of such diverse people? Oh, how exhausted he must be. She couldn't imagine the burden of such a task on her shoulders, certainly, she'd crack under pressure and let it all slip through her fingers, watching it fall. He was different; he'd been born for such a task.

Lost in thought once again, you can imagine how it might seem quite comical for a bystander to witness one woman fiddling with her hair while her attention _should _be aimed at the approaching two founders of the village they were visiting. It was also especially odd since she was standing at the front, yet staring down at the ground while she, with a deep frown, tried to push the long hair-pin in its place.

"Mito!" a friend standing next to her hissed, which startled her. She dropped the hair-pin, her blue-eyed gaze watching it fall for just an instant, when a tanned hand shot into her view and captured the pin with perfect precision, nearly snatching it out of the air as if it were a mere feather. She heard the smallest gasp beside her, and slowly her gaze travelled upward from the hand holding her pin, to a strong arm, a torso, a neck, a sharp and handsome face – and eventually ended up staring into two coal black eyes. She was rattled, but had made a promise to herself she would not be like the others and fawn so easily over the man, and so she kept her composure.

"I believe you nearly dropped this." That strong voice again, and just like the first time she'd heard him speak (on that occasion, however, she'd been a mere observant as he discussed politics with her clan leader) it seemed to pierce right through her. She was so taken with the effect it had that she didn't note the light-hearted tone in which he'd spoken, and so kept her face completely even. A briefest brush of fingers, and she had her hair-pin back.

"Yes, thank you." she spoke with an inherent gracefulness as she bowed her head slightly – fitting and perhaps even necessary for any dignified diplomat. The leader of her company did well to step forward then, relieving her of the heavy, _heavy_ task – or so it felt like to her – in bearing this man's overwhelming presence. This gave her eyes the opportunity to briefly wander off, and then she saw the other founder standing just a feet behind him, watching with a sharp, red gaze.

He was such a contrast to his partner that she thought it to be some sort of cruel joke of fate to have paired up these two together. The Uchiha clan leader possessed no warmth. No kindness, not even an interest in his guests – but he was watchful, and menacing. Much like a shadow moving in the corner of your eyes; you know it to be harmless, and yet the sense of danger is ever-present. It reminded her of the days she used to be terrified of the darkness as a child, and it was strange to think a mere glance toward a man she'd never even met before was enough to resurface such childish fears, and yet it was so instinctual. After all, the darkness was the unknown, and humans tended to fear that which they did not, or could not, understand.

She studied him for a while, and noticed he'd seem to prefer watching the Senju leader speak and was completely uninterested in anyone else present. Needless to say, contributing to the polite small talk he did, even if it was in aloof sneers or apathetic remarks. Hashirama didn't seem to mind this almost openly _rude_ display. In fact, he seemed perfectly content with it.

If Konoha bemused her, then its founders completely baffled her.

Hashirama suggested to personally show them where they'd be staying. Mito did not miss the glance he shot in Madara Uchiha's direction, slight irritation flashing in the Uchiha's Sharingan eyes, and yet he walked with them as well. A more unusual pair of friends she had yet to see – and she was certain they had to be close. Body language said it all; the moment their eyes met almost seemed timed, they never strayed too far away from each other, and if one would increase or decrease his pace in walking the other would quickly (and most likely subconsciously) adjust as well. Yet there was some tension between them. They didn't hold their looks for longer than half a second, they never even addressed each other directly, and while they didn't stray too far away from each other, they seemed to take care in never straying too close either.

While she was so satisfied in watching them inconspicuously and had been so instantly fascinated, her observations were soon interrupted.

"…very talented, yes. Mito especially is extremely proficient in such techniques." She blinked, hearing her name being mentioned and hoped the indifferent Uchiha leader would change the subject before her uncle decided to embarrass her even further by talking about her as if she weren't present. Unfortunately, Madara _was _interested, albeit slightly.

"Oh? Yet, she's a mere diplomat." Disdain, _loathing_, almost. She steeled her resolve, determined not to let this one pass by that easily. She refused to be intimidated.

"We do not have use for soldiers during peace-time, lord." she replied, ignoring the looks her friends shot her for such an unabashed reply.

"Nonsense," he scoffed, "I think even _your _little village has a need due to the occasional attack." His swords cut through the air with the sharpness of a newly polished sword. Such a condescending tone, and she vaguely wondered if this was his standard attitude towards stranger. She would never be so arrogant to think he singled her out, certainly – it was most likely because she'd been the only one to answer him to his unspoken challenge.

"A few, but they are not as valuable as they used to be." she responded honestly. He seemed ready to tear her to shreds with his next remark, and she almost braced herself for it.

"Here it is." Hashirama interrupted them coolly, and Mito looked up. It was a very simple row of traditional houses, seeming to be brand new and yet unused. She was surprised at such a warm welcome, thought she hadn't exactly been sure what to expect in the first place. She glanced to the side to her companions and could already tell that at least the females would greatly prefer to hang around the two men – but they had carts full of equipment and such to be loaded out so there was no time for dawdling, or so her uncle told them as he sent most of them to work.

Before Mito did as she was told, she looked once at Madara Uchiha again – and she concluded he already seemed to hate her. He gave her one last glare, gave her uncle an offhanded goodbye, then promptly turned his back on them and stalked off. She didn't quite understand why or what she'd done to insult him. Perhaps she had been a little too brazen with her remarks? Her family did always tell her she was far too bold at times.

As if sensing her unease, Hashirama turned to look at her, having been mid-step in following the other founder.

"Don't mind him. This was actually quite polite for his standards; you'll get used to it." he reassured her light-heartedly. Suddenly feeling a little embarrassed for being so insecure, she couldn't bring herself to looking at him again.

"I'd hope so." she murmured, making a mental note to avoid the Uchiha leader as much as possible. "You seem like good friends." Mito then stated, still intrigued by the odd dynamic the two had around each other. Hashirama smiled mildly. A polite smile, not a genuine one but one out of courtesy. The only reason Mito recognized this, was because it was a smile she herself often used.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it." he replied softly, and she was a little puzzled by such a vague answer.

"Pardon?" He shook his head.

"I think it's about time I took my leave. It was a pleasure meeting you."

She still wasn't sure what perplexed her more as she watched the clan leader leave – the village or its inhabitants? Two of her friends (who'd been supposed to be helping with loading out the cart) immediately walked up to her and started asking her opinion on him. She sighed at their probing questions.

'_This is why I prefer talking to men.' _she decided as she tried to cut the conversation short – and then she'd be accused of acting all high-and-mighty again, as if it were impossible for a woman to not be interested in gossiping. Nevertheless, she could definitely see the appeal the Senju leader had. His kindness was impossible to be mistaken for a weakness and his natural charm had something immensely alluring – she was quite enthralled by him herself, though she was more sensible than the others and did well to not let it show.

She could only wonder what future awaited her in this strange village, if a future awaited her at all.

* * *

Madara was rather annoyed at the moment, He wasn't exactly sure why, either. He didn't know what he wanted anymore – well, no, that was a lie. He knew _exactly_ what he wanted. Getting it, however, was an entirely different matter. He didn't even know why he'd actually caved into Hashirama's request to show up in the first place. Perhaps to make him shut up and go away before the urge to tackle him to the ground and rip his clothes off to ravage him would grow too strong. So, he'd decided that minimal contact for now was the most sensible thing to do at the moment.

However, like every other damn Senju in existence, Hashirama was persistent. Just when he thought he'd escaped (courtesy to the Uzumaki woman for distracting his rival), as he turned around a corner, he was proven wrong – faced with the Senju who was standing at the end of the street, as if having been expecting him.

"Madara!"

'_How in the name of…? Did that bastard take a shortcut?!' _He felt compelled to turn around and run, but dammit, he wasn't going to flee like a coward now. He could handle it. He just needed to shut his brains down for a few minutes, or distract himself otherwise. Madara narrowed his eyes as Hashirama approached him with a mild frown on his face.

"Senju," he scoffed, the rays of the sun shining right into his eyes, annoying him somewhat and he shifted, moving into the shadows of a nearby building. "I thought you were going to spend the day with your allies?"

"_Our _allies." Hashirama corrected him curtly, following his movements as he was evidently displeased with his attitude. "Were you in a hurry?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You seemed a little too eager to leave."

"Perhaps my regular pace is simply a fast one. Ever thought of that?" he snapped. His friend crossed his arms over his chest, eying him almost suspiciously. But he couldn't help it that he was on edge now, so much aware of the longing in his chest that it almost made it impossible to behave naturally.

He couldn't ignore it any longer. This situation needed to be fixed, and there was only _one_ option available to possibly putting this whole thing to rest.

"What is bothering you?" Hashirama questioned, unfazed by his hostile tone. "Did I do something to upset you?"

'_Never. You can do no wrong–'_

'_**Shut up!' **_

How had he not noticed those _looks_ before? That expression in those dark eyes – barely noticeable to anyone else, but Madara knew this man through and through. The affection and warmth was so obvious, _so damn obvious_! He almost wanted to yell at the Senju for being so blatant about it, or so it seemed to him; fact was, no one else but him and Tobirama could tell with precision what it was that was reflected in Hashirama's eyes. Most people saw a simply kindness and confidence most of the time.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with." Madara eventually replied, the frustrated look dissipating into a stoic one. He needed to straighten out his thoughts. What did he want? Well, evidently the man in front of him – who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Madara had come up with about fifty different ways of devouring him. Would it be wise to pursue him? Well, it would certainly be the most idiotic thing he'd ever do in his life. But the possible pay off if he succeeded? Heaven. Complete and utter paradise, even if only for a night.

So, was it worth it?

He'd rather not answer that question, even if he already knew. No more running away. The more he tried the more frustrated he became and he was certain this wasn't doing his mental health _any _good. The self-loathing was most likely going to be permanent, ever-present and gnawing at his conscience in the back of his mind. He'd accepted this, and he could live with this. But the unfulfilled desire in his chest was excruciating on an emotional level he'd not thought had been possible to reach. To think he was in this state just because of _one _embrace which hadn't even lasted longer than three seconds.

Naturally, he wasn't going to tell the Senju this.

But of course Hashirama was a damned mind-reader so he immediately hit the cause of all the tension that had plagued the Uchiha.

"Is this because of what happened that day, near the river?"

"No, it has nothing to do with that."

"You're lying."

'_Dammit.' _

Hashirama seemed a little agitated for a moment, but then let out a deep sigh, as if wondering what to do with the Uchiha much like a parent trying to deal with a rebellious son. People walking by them were mostly ignored, and none were foolish enough to try to eavesdrop anyway. The shade of the building was cooling on such a hot day, which would soon become rare as autumn was crawling closer.

"How can you tell when I'm lying in the first place?" Madara, though very frustrated, asked out of curiosity. Hashirama stared at him for a moment, shooting him a small, amused smile before, rather suddenly, putting a hand on the other's shoulder and subtly moving closer.

"Your shoulders get stiff and you break eye-contact a little quicker than usual." Those words fell on deaf ears as all Madara could hear was an inner voice trying to coax him into attacking the Senju's all too inviting lips now they were standing a little too close for comfort. "I apologize if I was too personal." Why did it seem to be _so _easy for him to say such things and come off as completely relaxed and in control? Madara scowled as he observed the other for a while longer. If he was going to figure out what to do with their "situation", he'd need to hear Hashirama's thoughts as well – yet the man was pretending as if they were just ordinary friends. No, he wouldn't be able to live through this and come out sane when there was such a huge wall in between them. The one-sided feeling would drive him crazy, so he needed to have confirmation this was a mutual thing, even if he already suspected as much.

He sighed, and resigned himself to his – their – fate.

"You _cannot _be this dimwitted." Hashirama blinked at the sudden insult, his brows furrowing in a deep frown. "Drop the act. I'm getting tired of it."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

'_Who's the liar now?'_

Madara leaned a little closer out of precaution, making sure no one nearby was in earshot as he replied. "We both know what you _really _want from me, but you can't say it. You couldn't say it a week ago, and you still can't say it now." He waited for a reaction. Hashirama's eyes avoiding his gaze was more than enough of an answer. His hand had long been removed from his shoulder, though Madara had barely noticed.

"What will you do if I do say it?" the Senju leader then questioned quite composedly, closing his eyes for just a moment.

"Try me and find out." Madara replied quietly, then stopped to think for a moment before he continued. "Denying it any longer is pointless. Neither you nor I can avoid this anymore." Hashirama's head snapped up and he stared him right in the eyes, slightly taken aback.

"You…?"

'_I can't believe I'm doing this.'_

"Yes, _me_." Madara snapped impatiently, getting more anxious with every passing second. "What, was my little spectacle near the river not enough to convince you? Have you blinded yourself this much already, you hopelessly foolish romantic?" he berated him, sharp irritation laced in his voice. Hashirama simply gazed, his expression completely blank as if his brains had just shut down.

On any other day Madara would've found this amusing.

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression. It's obvious we'll have to deal with this sooner or later. Now listen carefully, Senju: this is nothing but a _problem_ that needs to be dealt with, nothing more, nothing less. I've just about reached my limit and it's about time you take responsibility for what you've done to me." he hissed in a low tone, not having forgotten what had transpired the night he'd come home soaked after the whole happening near the Naka River. He was already buried under a heap of self-loathing and disgust – sinking lower wasn't even a possibility, so he might as well hit rock bottom since it could only get better from there. This sexual attraction was nothing more than that, an attraction, a temporary thing. He didn't even want to mention the dreaded word that made most couples he'd seen act completely irrationally and nauseatingly cuddly with each other.

There was only one thing he could do to combat this problem now, and that was to give in.

God, he might spontaneously burst into flames and burn in hell afterwards, but there was no other way out of this situation.

Apparently, Hashirama wasn't so ready to accept it yet, still seeming to be in disbelief. Naturally. Knowing him, Madara suspected he'd probably talked himself into thinking that a mutual attraction was nearly impossible and had instead turned himself into some hopeless romantic who was content with the closeness of a "friendship" and _companionship_. It was sickeningly sweet and frustrating to no end.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?!" Madara spat, his patience having run out completely. The coal black eyes were fixated on him with an intense stare, and yet no response. "Fine. Go home and _think it over_." he sneered angrily, as if having read Hashirama's mind. "Think it over until your idiotic head explodes, and don't you dare talk to me until you have an answer."

With that, he promptly turned around and stalked off, itching to kill something as he was completely aggravated by Hashirama's lack of a response. He glared at any who dared look at his angry form as he walked through the streets with a gaze that _might _just kill. He was headed back to the compound, mostly in need of a stupid subordinate to yell at. The route to his home from near the gates of his village was mostly a very quiet one, trees scattered about on both sides of the path as he trudged forward, his loose clothing swaying easily with the constant breezes, which were a welcome cure from the sun. Madara was _not _in a good mood and _someone _was going to have to answer for it.

While he was thinking up ways to torture his underlings, a speck of white on his right drew his attention. Unmistakably, Tobirama Senju sitting in the shade of a tree several feet away. The other trees nearly blocked him out completely, and if he hadn't had such a prominent hair color he would've been hard to spot. Madara stood perfectly still for a second, wondering whether he had some sort of Senju-attracting pheromone on him, then took a few steps towards the younger sibling.

"What are you doing here?"

Tobirama glanced up at him with apathy, a scroll spread out over his lap as he'd pulled his knees up just slightly. He had nothing else on him and had been studying the paper until Madara had interrupted him.

"Sitting." he replied in a dry tone. Madara narrowed his eyes, walking over to the younger man with a firm glare. Tobirama truly annoyed him to no ends – he was obviously his better and yet the Senju insisted on speaking in such a belligerent tone. An irritating little brat that needed to be taught a lesson.

"I don't repeat my questions, Senju." Madara caught just a glimpse from what was written on the scroll when he was standing just close enough. A summoning contract…? No, slightly different. Altered, and no summoning animal was mentioned on it for as far as he could tell.

"I don't repeat my answers either, Uchiha." Tobirama retorted dryly, focusing back on the scroll. He then frowned for a moment in contemplation. "Uchiha, your brother…." He stopped, reluctant to finish his sentence.

"What about him?" Madara questioned with a truly icy tone, the warmth of the sun fleeing as the atmosphere turned cold. Tobirama looked away, staring at the ground for a moment. Where Hashirama and Madara had been unyielding rivals, their younger siblings had had something similar. They'd never, however, had a bond as complex as their older brothers had at the moment, but Tobirama had still been quite shocked when hearing the news. Any other emotion he pushed aside. In the end, he hadn't known Izuna that well – the man hadn't let him.

"You have my condolences." he eventually muttered quietly.

"I don't need them." Madara snapped, not looking for any sort of kindness or sympathy from the Senju brat. "What is that technique you're working on?" Tobirama scowled at him, though he seemed to consider it for a moment. He then handed the scroll over, a little hesitantly. Madara took it from his hands and looked it over in detail. His eyes widened.

"Edo Tensei?"

"It's just a basic concept at the moment. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to complete it, and I certainly wouldn't want to use it unless absolutely necessary." Tobirama quickly explained while Madara memorized the entire paper, giving it back again when he was done. With this… it wasn't impossible. Improbable, but not impossible, and while he still thought of Tobirama as the most annoying brat in the whole wide world, he didn't deny the young man was exceptionally intelligent. He'd be able to pull it off.

"Does Hashirama know about this?" Madara asked, though he already expected the answer to be positive. Imagine his surprise when Tobirama didn't answer and looked away instead. "You didn't tell him?"

"He is a very black and white kind of guy. He'd never approve of it until he sees how useful it would actually be, and for that to happen, in needs to be completed first." the Senju said, trying to justify it, and Madara had to say he had a point – yet something else puzzled him.

"I'm surprised you of all people trust me with this." he remarked, and Tobirama stayed silent, but he'd already figured out the reason behind it. "It's because I'd have an incentive to help you, no doubt. After all, I never got to say goodbye to my brother." There was an uncomfortable silence, but Tobirama didn't deny it. Madara had probably hit the nail on the head, and he couldn't say the younger Senju was wrong in assuming that. "I'll see what I can do." Tobirama looked up at him, surprise all over his features.

"You–"

"Later." Madara interrupted him curtly, turning his back on him and walking away again. "I've seen enough Senju for today."

* * *

**LE FIN. Of this chapter, at least.**

**HOLY CRAP WE GOT PAST THE HUNDRED REVIEWS!**

**So many reviews last chapter! I'm so happy I think I might burst into tears! **

**...Okay, maybe not. But GODDAMN, you guys! I love all the amazing feedback I'm getting!**

**Yes, I'm planning on developing Madara and Tobirama's relationship a bit more. For some reason this is always neglected in other fics, which is odd because I think they'd have a very interesting dynamic.**

**Yes, Tobirama is going to stir shit up because of the above.**

**Yes, Mito is going to stir shit up.**

**Yes, Madara hates her fucking guts.**

**Yes, Hashirama's brains exploded this chapter.**

**Yes, Madara wants to kill me. **

**Reviews! Reviews, before I get Amaterasu'd in the face!**

**Bye-bye!**


	14. Secret

**Secret**

If a meteor crashed right on top of him and crushed his bones to dust until they were carried away by the wind at this very moment, he probably wouldn't notice. He shut down completely, trying to think of a proper way to respond to such a blatant admission. Suffice to say that everything Madara had uttered after, _"It's obvious we'll have to deal with this sooner or later,"_ had fallen on deaf ears. By the time Hashirama had attempted to follow him while the younger man stalked off, his black hair swaying gracefully with his swift movements, he'd been dragged away by some acquaintance who had something or other to complain about again, no doubt completely trivial compared to the raging storm that was sweeping through Hashirama's head, and so it was quite a miracle to even himself that he managed to come off as completely composed like usual.

Meanwhile, in his mind, a choir of angels were chanting _'Madara, Madara, Madara–' _

"…can understand how this can lead to some tension." The tall Yamanaka had been in the middle of telling him something concerning a few small conflicts between one clan and the other who – what did this have to do about Madara again? Nothing? Well then, why was he wasting his time here?

"I'll look into it when I am able. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." the blond man nodded, stepping aside, and just like that, Hashirama had escaped a very tedious conversation which might have lasted for over ten minutes while still coming off as considerate and responsible. In the meantime, the center of his world – which had once been an entire village – slowly but surely shifted to focus on a single person. How could any one man throw him off his feet like this? It was like he'd been caught up into a roaring earthquake, one which crumbled and destroyed everything except for that one name being repeated over and over in his head like a mantra; it was all that was left in a swirling pool of maddening adoration.

'_Madara, Madara, Madara.'_

He walked through the busy street, the villagers greeting him as he walked past them, barely aware of their kind smiles.

It was unfair. He'd been completely ambushed and stabbed through the chest – a hole ripping through every single of his defenses, piercing his heart like an arrow aiming for the bull's-eye. Everything was warm and burning and tingling, and the sound of his heartbeat boomed through his ears like the sound of thunderous war drums, perfectly in sync with a breath-taking song, the dulcet tones of a sweet melody gently soothing the inner conflict that threatened to drown him.

'_Madara, Madara, Madara.' _

It was done. All was out in the open. The fight was over.

The war, however, was not.

Madara was unpredictable, that much was a fact. He'd never imagined him being that blunt, at least, not out in public, and it frustrated him. What had the Uchiha expected from him? Had Hashirama been supposed to declare some sort of undying love for him in the _middle of the street_? As much as that would've pleased him, there were two problems with this.

The first was he still didn't know how he could classify this chaotic pulling and pushing that was going on between them. You could give it all sort of names. Allies, comrades, friends, partners, and yet, none of them quite fit. None of them quite captured the insanity – and beauty, and intensity – of their relationship.

'_Lovers_.'

A pleasant shudder ran down his spine just by thinking of the word. Lovers could mean many things. It could mean two people together just because of a pure, animalistic, physical attraction. It could mean two people together because of a deep and emotional bond. It could mean two people together, walking the fine line between love and hatred. Lovers captured them perfectly – and yet they weren't. Not yet, if he dared to hope.

This brought him to his second problem; how did one, exactly, confess their attraction to the person whom they'd almost killed and gotten killed by multiple times over the course of several years in the past? It certainly seemed Madara didn't have any trouble doing that, but that was only because he'd classified this attraction as a _problem_ that needed to be _dealt with_ – as such, he'd chosen the route most likely to rid himself of it. For Hashirama, it wasn't nearly that easy. He'd never denied that he'd cared for the young Uchiha (perhaps more than he should've) and had, in large part, understood his pain and struggling. There _was _an emotional connection there; a deep bond woven through threads of understanding, trust and respect – no matter how much Madara liked to deny it and brush it off as a triviality. This, in turn, had hurt Hashirama. How could he profess to the man what he really felt when in the end, Madara would deny it all and turn to look the other way? How could he _possibly _endure his feelings being trampled on like that?

He turned around the corner of the street, and while debating his next move as if it were a game of shōgi, soon enough, he found himself heading towards his garden, walking through the oh so familiar corridor which he'd been through so many times before. As he passed the numerous paintings lined up neatly on the walls, his eyes caught the one of the Wisteria Maiden. They lingered there for a moment as he recalled the sweet but tense afternoon Madara had spent here, until a sudden hand on his shoulder woke him from his thoughts. He turned around to see Tōka, who, like always, had the stoic expression on her face accompanied by the slightest frown.

"Didn't you hear me? I called your name at least three times." she said with a frown, letting go of his shoulder again.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"So I've noticed. What's bothering you?" Hashirama sighed.

"Always straight to the point." he muttered, not very appreciative of her usual candor at the moment. He doubted she could help him out either way, even if she was one of his closest friends. He wasn't afraid of her judging him, no; Tōka was above such childish actions. He'd known her ever since they'd been children, and next to his brother, she was the person in whom he confided in the most. But if he himself couldn't figure it out – and he was the person who knew Madara best, then how could he expect _her _to know? She'd been completely indifferent to the Uchiha from day one, after all, so he doubted she would–

"Is this about Madara Uchiha?"

Hashirama stared.

Then his mind blanked.

Then he stared some more.

"Am I that obvious?" Her mouth twitched into an amused smile for just a moment, before turning back into that simple, expressionless line.

"Every time you come home completely depressed or completely elated, it's _always _because of that man. So, no – you couldn't be more obvious even if you walked around with a giant sign declaring your undying love for him." Hashirama scowled for a moment, turning away as he continued walking. Tōka, slightly puzzled at this sudden reaction, followed him closely. "Hashirama? I was just joking, I'm sorry if I… I offended…?" He stopped, looking at her from over his shoulder, and watched with a morose expression as the understanding of the situation dawned on her. "Don't tell me–"

"Not a word." He cut her off somewhat brusquely, basically confirming what she'd suspected. She seemed genuinely shocked, but he disregarded that as he knew she could be trusted, and resumed his walk through the hallway. She followed quietly, no doubt trying to think of what to say to him. He didn't need it, but he appreciated the understanding nonetheless. When they finally got outside into his small garden, the leafs of the trees having fallen as well as the petals of the wisteria tree, he trudged over to the small lake, sitting down on the grass in front of it as he gazed at the reflection of the by now clouded sky visible in the still water. Tōka stood next to him, still silent, but only for a while.

"I never expected…." Her voice faded before she dared to finish her sentence and she awkwardly cleared her throat. "You know I wouldn't tell another soul." Though he _had _known that, he was still relieved she didn't seem to have any problems with it. It spared him another headache, at least.

"Of course." Hashirama confirmed, his gaze fixated on the stray leaf floating in the lake, fallen from a tall tree near it.

"Then if I may, how long has this been going on?" she asked quietly, standing at a tactful distance as to not intrude into his personal bubble. While blunt and rather rough most of the time, she was still a considerate person when it came down to it; and especially at times like these, Hashirama was thankful for it.

"I don't remember." he answered honestly, a sudden autumn breeze blowing his hair sideways. The summer was fading far too soon than he would've liked.

"I see. Does this mean the two of you…?" she started carefully, but he shook his head. "Oh. Is it one-sided, then?" she continued, slightly surprised. He smiled mildly, and shook his head again. He glanced at her, seeing her brows furrowed in confusion, starting to grow impatient. "Then what?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

"What? You don't even know?" A subtle irritation laced the words as she folded her arms across her chest, staring down at him with a frown.

"It can go either way." She contemplated his answer for a moment, and seemed to figure it out after a few seconds of silence.

"I understand." she then replied with an almost solemn nod, dropping her hands to her sides again. "You know, you could've at least picked someone _less _noticeable. If words gets out–"

"But it won't, will it?" Hashirama interrupted her, looking up with a stern gaze.

"Of course not. However, if you're not careful, this might, well, turn into a huge scandal. Not wanting to marry is one thing – being in love with _that man _is another." He internally winced at the mention of the word love, but nothing of this was reflected outwards.

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Tōka." She eyed him curiously for a moment, as if trying to decipher his thoughts by attempting to read his face, which was pretty hopeless considering Hashirama was more than simply skilled at staying composed.

"Does Tobirama know?" she eventually asked.

"Of course not. He'd have a field day with this and I'm not in the mood for theatrics at the moment. I wouldn't hear the end of it unless I decided to rip my ears off." Hashirama scoffed, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the now completely grey sky. Thunderclouds were up ahead, slowly drifting towards the village.

"You're starting to sound like him." Hashirama's gaze instantly shot back to the woman with the far too intricately tied hair as she smiled lightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You must be very fond of him if you're copying his mannerisms."

He felt a warm feeling in his chest and he turned away, his heart filling with affection as he recalled how often Madara's lips would pull up for a derisive sneer to mock even the slightest wrong or silly statement without fail. This habit of the Uchiha clan leader had quickly grown on him, as it usually amused him and was one of the few signs Madara wasn't as unreachable as he seemed if he was willing to let go of his stoic façade for a moment just to make a snappy remark.

"So then, how do you plan on courting our favorite dissident?" Hashirama frowned at Tōka's somewhat uncharacteristic question.

"I didn't think you'd be one for such humor."

"Tobirama rubbed off on me." He ignored that, even if it was likely to be true; his younger brother often infected people with his sarcasm.

"I don't plan on _courting _anyone at the moment."

"And why not?" Tōka questioned almost defiantly, as if _she _were in his position. He appreciated the empathy, but he doubted she'd really understand. "If this is a mutual thing, why not give it a shot?"

"It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is. All you have to do is close your eyes and jump." she told him, finally sitting down next to him on the grass. He sighed, catching a glimpse of a frog leaping out of the water for just a moment as he considered this vague metaphor. "Merely a leap of faith."

"We don't see eye to eye on whatthis "mutual thing" exactly is, Tōka. He approaches it from a more physical angle. If I leapt now, I'd probably fall to my death."

"Ah," Tōka hummed thoughtfully, then shooting him a glance he deemed somewhat suspicious. "I see."

"What?" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You've always been quite the roma–"

"Don't you even dare finish that sentence." She did her best to hold back a teasing smirk at his frown, and instead looked away, not wanting to push it too far. Tōka was one of the few people who actually ever got a less-than-respectable reply out of him, because of their long history together. She was one of her trusted advisers, after all.

"But that's not a bad thing, is it? Love can be born from a pure physical attraction as well. The emotional connection is there – you just need to make him realize that. See? It's not that hard."

"This is _Madara Uchiha _we're talking about."

"Ah, indeed, that had slipped my mind for a moment. Well, in that case, it seems you have your work cut out for you." she stood up from the ground, wiping the slight dirt off her clothes. "Try it then, at least for a, er, night." she avoided his eyes rather uncomfortably, and though it would've amused him any other time to see the otherwise stoic woman react so awkwardly, the implications of what she'd said had sunk in with him as well. One night, a night with the two of them… well, it was probably best if he didn't think about that at least until his friend left.

"Thank you, Tōka." he told her truthfully and she nodded. He didn't need to ask her to keep quiet about this issue – both of them knew the minute she'd figured it out that this was Hashirama's (and possibly Madara's) secret to keep and not hers. She left him to his own devices as she retreated inside, and he mulled over their conversation as he shifted to lie down his back, gazing up at the sky. His thoughts were much clearer now, and he knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to answer Madara, _properly_, but not immediately. He'd give it some time, maybe a day or two, before he took the next step.

He knew there was a high chance he'd regret his actions whether he leapt or didn't, so he might as well take the more pleasurable route before he inevitably crashed down.

Besides, with that leap, there was still the slightest chance that maybe he could get Madara to recognize that he couldn't brush this off as being something purely physical. Maybe he'd be able to make him realize that they needed each other to stay sane in more ways than one.

Even if – taking into account how stubborn and evasive Madara was – the chance of succeeding was hopelessly small, it was better than no chance at all.

* * *

Tobirama had to say he was genuinely surprised at how civil the Uchiha was when he wanted to be.

Suffice to say that this wanting to be polite was generally about as common as spotting a double rainbow on a given Tuesday morning.

Two days after the clan leader had agreed with helping him with his morally questionable technique – it was for the good of their allies, he'd argued with his conscience, all was fair in war after all – he'd showed up again, in a more pleasant mood than last time. Well, about as pleasant as you could get with Madara Uchiha. The sneering had been reduced to a minimum and for once, Tobirama didn't feel like repeatedly bashing his face in with a brick.

Perhaps that was a somewhat melodramatic way of expressing his general irritation with the man, but he had to admit, the visualization of such an event was quite comical. While Hashirama might have managed a way to actually tolerate the presence of the demon and even call him a _friend_, Tobirama had not quite forgotten the numerous attempts on his life, even if it had been years ago. There was just this little something about the Uchiha clan leader that irritated him the way nails scraping on a chalkboard was irritating. He rubbed him the wrong way, and though he could sum up all the numerous qualities that annoyed him (the superiority-complex towards his brother, the overconfidence, the smug attitude, the highly obnoxious commanding tone in which he spoke, etcetera) he could never exactly pinpoint it, which irritated him even more, which made Madara more irritating in turn – and so this vicious cycle continued until Tobirama was irritated with _everything _about the man for no apparent reason_._

Not that it mattered. He was certain the man thought the exact same way about him – if not even worse. He at some points considered giving him a shot, seeing that Hashirama seemed to greatly value Madara's companionship, but so far, it wasn't going well.

At the moment, however, they were back in the small clearing in which Madara had first spotted him with the scroll in his hand, discussing how this technique, Edo Tensei, would have to work. Because of this business-like talk, all personal feelings were swept aside, even if they had their own motives for doing this.

Tobirama knew and had expected that if Madara were to coöperate at all, it would be because of the sudden loss of his brother. He had to say, attempting to resurrect Izuna would make a nice first attempt and also keep Madara motivated into working together with him. Two worked more efficiently than one, after all. He didn't believe Madara was deluded into thinking it was a permanent resurrection either – like the man had stated before, he'd merely never gotten the chance to say goodbye. Tobirama offered him that chance.

As for the young Senju himself; he'd always been ambitious, a perfectionist, even an overachiever, most would say. Already a widely renowned and indisputable master of Suiton at a young age at that, he'd never stopped refining and perfecting whatever flaw there was left to work on, and once those had all been fixed, he'd moved on to inventing new techniques. This one, he believed, would prove the full capacity of his abilities. What better way to establish your aptitude by cheating death itself? The very prospect was exhilarating to him, and he could hardly wait to bring all the pieces together. Of course, you could say it was unnatural and unethical, but it wasn't like this was a technique you could use casually. No, only in emergencies, only if everything else had failed. It wasn't all _that _immoral – though, Madara did raise some questions about that.

"What if the summoned person refuses to coöperate? You realize that could spell disaster." he pointed out to Tobirama as he was seated on the grass, back pressed against the tree, studying the scroll with the technique written on it. Tobirama was right above him, sitting on a thick branch and mostly hidden between the leafs though they were starting to fall.

"It shouldn't come to that. Anyone intelligent enough to master this technique should also be intelligent enough to know who to call on for help." Tobirama argued, and though he couldn't see Madara's face from where he was sitting, he could almost _hear _him scowling.

"Humans are fundamentally flawed; anyone could get cocky and make a mistake or a misjudgment of character. You need a fail-safe."

"What do you suggest?" Tobirama pressed, raising his eyebrows.

"It would be far more efficient if you could bend the ones you summon to your will in case they get out of hand."

"You mean controlling them, like puppets?"

"Is that too morally reprehensible for you?" Madara scoffed.

There it was again. The oh so familiar bashing-of-face-with-brick urge.

"I simply think it could be far too easily taken advantage of."

"It's either having the option of commanding them, or potentially have them kill the caster and escape the technique, in which case they'd be immortal and could cause a lot of damage if they wanted to. Besides that, if you have the option to control them, you could summon far more powerful "allies" than you would've done otherwise." Tobirama didn't want to say it. He honestly didn't, but he wasn't one to lie either.

"I suppose you do have a point." he grudgingly admitted.

"I didn't catch that." Madara taunted in response, having damn well exactly heard what he'd said. Tobirama glared down at him but didn't respond otherwise as he looked back down at the scroll and tried to think of an appropriate method of controlling the people summoned if need be. Puppet-masters used chakra strings to control their marionettes, but strings in such a case were far too inefficient and limiting. He needed something that could work at any range, and enable the targets to use their full potential. A talisman of some sort would work; as long as they were tagged, the range didn't matter. It would be a complicated one, but he could pull it off if he designed it just right.

"So, I've noticed something lately, Uchiha." Tobirama eventually said, deciding to take a short break from debating over the technique. Besides, this really had been bugging him for a while.

"I am truly _astounded_ that you actually possess powers of observation, Senju. I am impressed. "

"You've been avoiding my brother lately." He stated, ignoring the sardonic sneer. Madara stayed silent at this, and Tobirama slowly went on. "Not to say I'm not relieved, but I find it rather odd. I'm assuming something happened between you two?"

"How, exactly, is this any of your business?" Madara replied with venom dripping off his words.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we have the same parents – consequently, that would make me his brother." Madara glanced up at him with a skeptic look. "Random mutations happen." Tobirama huffed in response, briefly touching a lock of his silver hair. The two siblings really did look barely anything alike. Tobirama was pretty much under the impression that he had a different father, though it didn't really matter. Both their parents had passed away several years ago anyway, though none of this was anything he'd voluntarily tell Madara.

"Naturally. Either way, you–" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a few familiar voices drawing closer. Tobirama frowned mildly, as one was unmistakably his brother's. The other's was– why were Madara's shoulders suddenly tense?

* * *

"You are very fortunate with such a wonderful village, my lord."

"No need to be so formal. We're taking a nice afternoon walk, aren't we?"

"I… yes, of course." Hashirama was mildly amused, but also felt a little guilty for making the woman feel so self-aware. It wasn't his intention, really, but it seemed he just had that kind of innate effect on a few people. Mito Uzumaki just happened to be one of them, and though he was used to ignoring it, he felt some sympathy – especially considering the other three people with them weren't exactly very tactful. He'd taken a liking to Mito. She was mostly quiet and rather reserved, but also seemed like a good-natured person, naturally elegant without coming off as arrogant. It was a nice distraction, chatting with her; it took his mind off the inevitable task ahead of him.

"We should celebrate!" one of her relatives declared when the topic of conversation had shifted to the alliance of the Uzumaki clan with Konohagakure. "A grand feast for the whole village, with music and delicious food–"

"Chizuru, don't get so carried away." the redhead with the longest hair, kept in a neat braid, scolded the shortest woman – also a redhead. Hashirama had always vaguely wondered what it was with Uzumaki and red hair. It was an odd trait – then again, every Uchiha he'd ever seen had always had dark hair and dark eyes without fail. It had always struck him as odd, though mostly because there was such diversity in his own clan he wasn't very used to such uniformity.

"Actually, I think that is a good idea." he interceded. "We haven't gotten a break in a while. A short celebration would be a good opportunity to relax." Keeping the entire border stable wasn't exactly easy, after all. It demanded manpower; add to that the fact they'd just recently built the village – or for Hashirama personally, the stress that came from dealing with one particular Uchiha on a regular basis. Yes, a day or two off would do him good.

"Wonderful!" the short woman, Chizuru, exclaimed rather excitedly.

"Please tone it down, Chizuru. You might disturb other people with the noise you're making." Mito requested her relatively politely, though with a slight frown.

"Ah, sorry, I got slightly carried away."

"That's what I told you."

"Quite a handful, don't you think?" the leader of the small Uzumaki company with his thick, red beard and bald head, Goro, said to Hashirama while the two energetic women were busily chatting. Mito was only attentive to the men's conversation, seeming to prefer to observe instead of mingle. It was a little standoffish, but it somehow fit her quite well. When she caught Hashirama's gaze she blinked, but didn't immediately look away like he'd expected her to. She merely held it for a second longer, as if admitting that she'd been peeking, then comfortably stared ahead. He found this to be a strange but pleasant reaction, confirming his first impression of her being mostly gentle-mannered.

"They're certainly lively." Hashirama eventually responded to the other man present, tearing his gaze away from Mito. Goro had caught this small exchange – Hashirama knew he had from the curious look in his eyes, but didn't think much of it at the time. He instead continued the conversation, and whenever the two ladies would make a fuss over something, he and Mito would exchange glances. Sometimes she'd chuckle rather amused at their theatrics, making him smile as if in agreement, and he could already tell the two of them would certainly get along very well in the future.

Of course, a relaxing afternoon with nothing to worry about had been a little too much to ask for Hashirama Senju. In fact, when he heard the familiar, swift but strong rhythm of footsteps approach them from their right, he nearly stopped walking altogether. It wasn't until the pale man with his coal black hair and crimson eyes actually emerged from between the trees that he _did _stop.

Madara's gaze landed on him first – of course it did – and it pierced right through him in the process.

"Lord Uchiha!" Hashirama barely heard the short Chizuru breathe his title as he was far too occupied with keeping those red eyes locked on him.

"Good afternoon. Would you like to join us for a walk?" The Uchiha clan leader gave the Uzumaki man an aloof glance. His gaze fleetingly shifted over to Mito with disdain. Hashirama spotted this, and found this odd, but didn't think it to be very important.

"No, I was simply passing by." Madara responded to Goro rather indifferently.

"Ah, I see. We won't keep you, then."

"A moment." Hashirama spoke up before he could help himself. Madara, having been in the middle of taking a step towards the opposite direction, halted and turned to look at him again, calculating eyes as he looked the Senju over from head to toe – as if inspecting him. "I have something I'd like to discuss with you. In private, if you don't mind." He looked at the redheaded man accompanying, who nodded, completely understanding. The Uzumaki company decided to leave, granting the two clan leaders some privacy. When Mito passed by, he gave her a friendly smile to which she answered with a small, reserved smile of her own. Madara's eyes narrowed, and he nearly glared at the woman when she walked past him – she, of course, didn't even dare look back at the man. Hashirama couldn't say he was too pleased with Madara's sudden hostility towards their guests and allies, but there were more important matters to discuss.

"Made up your mind, have you?" Madara eventually commented smoothly when they were completely alone. Hashirama thought everything over for a moment.

"Yes, I have." he replied coolly. Madara took a few steps back, leaning against a nearby tree as his eyes watched Hashirama with anticipation, but also a much more hardened gaze than the Senju would've liked to see.

Nevertheless, he'd started this, and he was going to have to finish it as well.

_'Time to make the leap.'_

* * *

**I am such a tease for cutting it off here, aren't I?**

**I'm sorry, but I just… I enjoy making you suffer. There, I said it! I love it! I'm a cruel, heartless bastard of an author who loves cliffhangers and torturing her readers!**

**In other news, my HashiMada song of the year which **_**totally **_**helped me with writing most chapters of this story is the sweetest little song called **_**Us Against the World **_**by **_**Coldplay**_**. Don't even bother asking me why. Everything about it reminded me of this pairing and it really helped me when the dreaded writer's block was looming over me.**

**As always, I love the amazing reviews I got and I hope you'll review (again) soon! I might even be inspired to update within a few days instead of keeping you deprived for about a week or so.**

**Hah. I love being a sadist.**

**Bye!**


	15. Desires

**Desires**

The silence was telling in more ways than one. The man standing under the cooling shade of the tree kept his red eyes trained on the taller one who'd been embraced by the rays of the sun which came bursting through the clouds for a moment – his otherwise dark hair giving off a lighter glow as they were swept into the wind, his eyes, the color of coals, gazing into the watchful crimson ones with all the depth of an ocean and all the stillness of the quiet pond in his idyllic garden. A familiar smile appeared on his ruggedly handsome face, and Madara wondered how often he'd seen _that _smile by now. He'd never thought much about what had been hiding behind the curved lips and the glinting in those eyes. It had been so common that he'd gotten used to seeing it. It was his smile. Hashirama's smile. That was all.

Now only in the context of their situation did he see how that gaze had softened ever so subtly, a certain warmth exuding from him which the young man had rarely seen before. Again, he had dismissed this gaze too in the past, brushing it off as something typically pertaining to Hashirama's natural charisma. Then again, it hadn't been as strong as it was at the moment. Before, he wouldn't have thought that look was meant specifically for _him _– until now, when it seemed that the invisible wall between them had crumbled and the blackness in those eyes overflowed with affection. He couldn't look away, not now he'd realized what had been hiding there all this time.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?" Hashirama then suggested, the smile fading away. It almost saddened him to see it leave so quickly, being replaced by an even expression. Almost. Instead, he shook it off and nodded once. It wouldn't be very smart to hang around on a road while having such an _intimate _conversation, risking anyone walking in on them at any given moment. He straightened his posture, turning around on his heel and with quiet movements retreating back into the tranquil woods, not bothering to look behind him to see if the other was following him. The soft crunching of the footsteps on the ground told him he was right behind.

"What were you doing here before?" Hashirama asked softly with a hint of curiosity, and Madara halted after they were safely tucked in between the trees of the forest, the sky starting to darken as the sun slowly sunk down. He turned around, realizing he probably should've worn something thicker instead of the thin, dark blue shirt he was wearing at the moment. It had a low cut, revealing a tad of his well-built chest, which the by now cold wind assaulted mercilessly. Annoyed when he shivered involuntarily, he subtly crossed his arms over his chest as he turned around to face his companion.

"Nothing you need to know." he responded, realizing his shoulders had been tense for a while when he noticed Hashirama's gaze shift briefly to them. He forced himself to relax at least somewhat, keeping his eyes fixed on the Senju leader's face. "Well?" he nearly snapped, starting to grow anxious as the previously serene silence turned to have an uncomfortable edge. Madara had almost thought – in those two days of no contact – that Hashirama had decided to take the safer route and deny everything, but the resolute look in his eyes now told him something else entirely. Not the dazed expression he'd seen earlier; instead all it encompassed was determination and warmth. Then, amusement.

"Getting impatient?" Madara's eyes widened slightly, and he glowered, taking a step towards the man, putting his hands down by his sides as he could not take any insolence nor taunting at the moment. Had he no idea – or did he just take pleasure in drawing things out like this as a means of torture? He'd barely gotten any sleep the past few days because_ this_ man insisted on haunting his every thought. "Don't get so worked up. There's no easy way for me to say this, so give me a moment."

"Don't tell me you prepared an entire speech?" He scowled, and Madara glowered back. "You're making this needlessly complicated."

"I'm not making _anything _complicated. You're the one who's trying to run away."

"Running away from what?" Madara snapped heatedly, but Hashirama's gaze remained steady.

"If you want me to accept your offer, you should know it won't be just a casual fling–"

"Hold it–"

"–at least, not for me."

"You're over thinking this." Madara declared, getting agitated with Hashirama's behavior. Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Wasn't it enough that he was willing to give himself on such an intimate, physical level? No, of course not – he wanted every piece of him. Madara gritted his teeth as he realized this. Every bit. Hashirama demanded every bit; not just his body, but his heart as well. It was infuriating, to think he'd have the nerve to demand so much from him. "I don't know what you think will happen, and I don't know what you envisioned this to be, but I'll have you know this isn't going to be some sort of grand _love story_, Senju." he spat with as much ferocity as he could muster. Hashirama seemed entirely unfazed.

"No, certainly not grand. Painful is a better word." Had Madara been a wild animal, this would've been the part where he'd sink his teeth into the other man and tear him to shreds. Instead, he took a deep breath, deciding that overreacting to such cheap words would only be degrading.

"Enough games." the Uchiha leader eventually growled in response. All trace of cheerfulness faded from Hashirama's face, being replaced by an entirely serious stare instead. He took a step, then a second one, and a third – Madara counting each second passing by in internal agony at having to wait for what seemed like centuries until there were _finally _just a mere inches between them. Yet, nothing happened. He was being stared at, and he stared right back into those determined eyes, but nothing. Just the sound of their breathing. He scowled, his features pulling into an angry expression – and as if he'd been waiting for it, Hashirama raised his hand. Madara's frustration vanished with the fleeting brush of fingertips on his right cheek. His palm then cupped the side of his face, his thumb gently caressing his pale skin, and the warmth the hand held was enough to render Madara a statue for just a moment. His chest tightened and suddenly breathing became difficult. He nearly caught himself leaning into the light touch, and instead focused on Hashirama's face, which had the most peaceful expression on it he'd seen yet.

"You look best when you're angry." It took a while for Madara to process those words with the thumb on his cheek distracting him. "Childish, I know." Hashirama continued with a mild smile, his hand moving itself as the fingers brushed a few strands of Madara's hair out of his face – the younger man's gaze hardening. He did not enjoy being toyed with. Hashirama sighed. "Don't look at me like that." Madara promptly shoved the hand away from his face, the red glare almost intense enough to kill.

"I'll look at you however I wish." was his sharp reply, and his eyes travelled up and down Hashirama's form, as if to prove a point – at the same time, enjoying the view of the strong, alluring body.

"I suppose it's about time we took the next step." The man eventually muttered, ignoring the look-over Madara was giving him, though from his suddenly rather stiff posture he could tell Hashirama wasn't entirely comfortable anymore either. He suppressed a smile at knowing he could have such an effect on him. There weren't many people who could make Hashirama feel uncomfortable.

"Did you think of that all on your own?" Madara sneered. Hashirama stayed silent, and after a few seconds, Madara realized he'd probably have to take the initiative if he wanted _anything _to be done. He allowed himself to lean in a little closer, his heartbeat picking up speed as anticipation swelled in his chest. His gaze locked on Hashirama's lips, and that was all it took. The unrelenting lust he'd buried and locked away escaped out of its confinements with a vengeance as all he could think about was having that long-desired taste of forbidden fruit. His hand suddenly moved on its own, grasping a handful of the red fabric Hashirama was wearing – red suited him well, he vaguely noticed – and he pulled him closer. He would've gone further had Hashirama not gripped his wrist at the last moment, his eyes wide at the sudden movement. Their bodies were pressed against each other – chest to chest, toe to toe, and Madara nearly growled at him for the sudden interruption.

"What is it?" he snarled, the large knot of unrest in his stomach tightening as his goal was _so close_, yet he couldn't reach it. The frustration started building up and he wasn't sure he had enough self-control to last much longer.

"I need to talk about this first." Hashirama murmured, the slight rumbling of his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down Madara's spine.

"Why?" Madara hissed, growing more anxious with the second as his grip on Hashirama's shirt tightened. "Don't you want this?" he continued to ask in a slightly softer tone, his free hand lifting up to Hashirama's face, the tips of his fingers brushing over the lips he so desired to devour. Hashirama stopped breathing for just a second at the seductive move, and Madara saw something dark flash in his eyes, something he'd _never _seen before. Curious to this sinister look, he leaned in closer, lowering his hand and nearing his own to them instead while not once lifting his eyes from Hashirama's dark ones. Madara's breath brushed over Hashirama's lips, and immediately that look reappeared and this time with consequence. He held back a gasp when he was nearly slammed into a tree, both of the Senju leader's hands on his upper arms, pressing them against the wood.

"You're playing with fire." Hashirama warned him in a low voice, while Madara's hands managed to grab Hashirama's arms in turn. Something akin to adrenaline rushed through his veins at the threatening tone, and he took a liking to the somewhat violent attitude.

"I'm willing to get burned." Madara replied calmly, even if the rest of his body was far too hot. His breath hitched when he finally recognized that dark look, that gaze far more passionate than anything he'd yet seen in the other's eyes – it was pure, sensual lust and yearning. His heart pounded in his chest like a wild animal in a cage, and he was faintly disappointed when the fire in those eyes threatened to fade, the grip on his arms slackening for a second – but it didn't matter, because it had sparked a flame in his own chest. With a feral growl slipping through his teeth, he yanked the other towards him again, and this time Hashirama didn't hold him back. Inevitably – finally, _finally_ – their lips crushed together, and neither cared how violent the initial clash was, because it burned so delectably – Hashirama far too dazed with the other moving so eagerly against his lips.

Madara sucked eagerly on his lower lip, as if attempting to devour him whole and his body shivered when Hashirama moaned against him, the sound rippling through his body like a drop of water in a pond. Air was disregarded as much as it could be, their lungs reduced to nothing but an annoying distraction. Madara's hand snaked to the back of Hashirama's neck, as if wanting to draw him even closer, his other hand gripping the man's shoulder so hard it was going to leave some bruises. Hashirama didn't mind. His hands were placed on both sides of the younger man, his slightly larger body pressing against Madara's leaner one, his back almost pressed painfully against the tree. It was a first kiss that ignited a blazing inferno, violent, unrelenting and completely overpowering everything else, and that was when not only Hashirama, but Madara realized as well; nothing else – _no one else_ – could ever compare

They had to part eventually, both panting for just a second and catching their breaths before their lips met once again – the desire too much for either of them to resist, to even _want _to resist. Madara soon became annoyed at the slow pace, his tongue impatiently flicked over the other's lower lip, wanting so badly to taste and demanding entrance. Hashirama complied slowly, this simple motion igniting fireworks inside of him. A loud, deep groan escaped him when he felt the same tongue slip through his lips skillfully, tasting, touching, exploring – an incredible heat building up in his lower region as his pants were suddenly far too tight. Madara pulled back for a moment for air, their tongues still linked as Hashirama refused to let him go that quickly; it felt far too good, far too addicting, and oh how he wanted more. The sloppy and violently wet kisses would've been heard if anyone decided to wander off from the path for even a few meters – but neither were even considering the chance of being heard, let alone seen. Madara, for the moment dominant, used this chance of Hashirama being in heaven to reverse their positions, turning them around and slamming the other man against the tree instead.

"What– nnh–" Madara bit his neck almost hard enough to injure it, "–what are you–"

"Shut up." was the only reply he got, Madara promptly returning to assaulting his neck with kisses that left a trail of fire over his skin. His eyes were glazed over in lust, but he faintly realized this was a fight for dominance, and wasn't so ready to lose it so easily. He used his length to his advantage, pulling back and forcefully joining their lips again, wrapping his arms around Madara's lower back, as you would do to a woman. This turned out to be the wrong move, and Madara snarled at him, biting his lip, drawing blood and making Hashirama hiss, pulling back at the sudden pain. Madara glowered intensely at him, attempted to shove him back against the tree. Hashirama wasn't willing, leading both of them to eventually stumble and fall down on the ground. Hashirama managed to get out on top, his knees between Madara's legs, leaning over him as he pinned his arms down to the ground by his wrists. A drop of blood from his lip fell down on a furious Madara's cheek, and he swiftly swept it away with his tongue.

"Get the hell o–" Hashirama didn't let him finish that sentence, kissing him heatedly as a hand slipped under the dark blue shirt, caressing the pale skin which shuddered. Madara let out the softest moan – the most wonderful sound he'd heard yet, and he _thought _he had him right where he wanted him, when the man seemed to snap out of it when Hashirama's hand wandered off to his pants, and he managed to wriggle a hand free, shoving the Senju leader off him rather brusquely. Hashirama fell back on his behind, panting and lightly touched his still bleeding lip as he gazed at Madara's far too seductive form. His lips were kiss-swollen and moist, his hair a tangled mess and his eyes so expressive, full of anger but most of all, yearning and heat. Madara wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling halfheartedly for once.

He couldn't let it slide.

"Was I too rough?" Hashirama said softly, a mild smile tugging at his lips as Madara blinked once, glaring daggers at him at the cheap taunt.

"I'm not doing this in the middle of a damn forest." he responded irately, standing up from the ground as angrily readjusting his clothes. Hashirama didn't respond, standing up as well, looking about as messy as his partner. He'd let go of a moment, completely forgetting about self-control and only focused on Madara and how heavenly his kisses were and the unrelenting waves of pleasure they caused in his body. However, as much as it was giving into their feelings, it was a battle as well. Not the one they were used to – far better, actually – but a battle nonetheless, and neither would be so easily defeated. Both of them, however, were looking forward to it.

"Where do we go from here?" Hashirama questioned, and Madara gave him _that _look. The look that made him feel like he'd just asked the most redundant question in ages.

"You want to have some sort of celebration, don't you? It's the perfect opportunity to get some privacy while the entire village is getting drunk." Hashirama blinked, realizing he must've overheard him speaking with the Uzumaki earlier.

"That's not what I meant." he eventually replied with a frown. "I already told you that this is not going to be some sort of casual fling."

"Then you're a fool." Madara snapped sharply at him. "_I _already told _you_ that this is nothing but a problem that needs to be dealt with."

"You know it's not that easy." Hashirama said softly, shaking his head. "It's never that easy with you."

"Delude yourself all you want." Madara stated coldly as he started walking, right past him, back towards the road as his eyes seemed determined not to make contact with Hashirama's. "It makes no difference to me." The Senju leader watched him leave without another word.

'_Such a blatant lie.'_

* * *

Mito wasn't sure why she was wandering around when it was getting so late, but she figured it could never hurt to learn a bit more about the village. It was far different from hers and intrigued her, after all. Yet, her thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic Uchiha clan leader and the far friendlier Senju clan leader. Such an odd duo, those two, with a definite sort of tension between them. She could not understand what she'd done to earn the ire of Madara Uchiha, but then again, she'd heard that he was generally a rather disagreeable man and while she wasn't one to believe rumors often, it seemed like it was true in this instance. Hashirama Senju, on the other hand, was the opposite. The rumors didn't do his kindness justice. She shook her head when realizing she was drifting off in her thoughts and opted to observe the villagers instead. Some gave her weird looks for walking around all on her own when it was already evening, but she wasn't very concerned.

She decided to get something to eat. There was a small dango shop, and she decided to head by for a quick bite. A friendly girl who worked there decided to ask her about Uzushiogakure and her clan in general. While she was a little direct in her questioning for someone Mito had just met, she was friendly enough and soon enough the Uzumaki took a liking to her. The girl introduced herself as Satoko Sarutobi, and she decided to keep Mito company. Probably because she was all alone, and she thought Mito was lonely for some reason.

"How are you liking the village?" the petite brunette asked cheerfully, sitting across Mito – who wondered if the girl didn't have other customers to serve.

"It's very peaceful. I like it so far." Mito said with a small smile, looking down at her food as she decided to take a small bite. Satoko leaned her head on her palm, with her elbow on the table.

"You've met the founders, yes?" Mito nodded, quickly swallowing her food. Satoko giggled. "Well?" Mito blinked, realizing she was looking for a fellow female's opinion.

"They're quite attractive." she confirmed in a neutral tone, turning away to look out the window as she was otherwise not interested in the topic. Satoko didn't understand this subtle tone and hinting in body language, and continued on with asking.

"I think Hashirama Senju especially looks very handsome, don't you think so? You had a walk with him earlier, right?"

"I did. He's very kind." Mito verified again, and Satoko grinned, leaning over a little – Mito recognizing that this was the typical movement one made when they were about to gossip.

"They say he's looking for a bride, you know. The women are practically lining up for him!" Mito blinked, considering this piece of information as she absent-mindedly twirled the stick which had previously had dango on it in her fingers. A bride? Yes, she had vaguely heard about that before. Her relatives seemed under the impression he'd probably choose an Uzumaki woman – the Senju clan was often inclined in strengthening alliances and bonds through marriage, after all. Most of it was all political, but she hadn't considered this much yet. She glanced at the Sarutobi girl. It was obvious from her dreamy expression that she was hoping it would be her. It was a possibility, but Mito wouldn't judge considering she barely knew the man and didn't know what his inclinations were. As such, she decided not to make a too judgmental remark about it.

"It will be interesting to see who he chooses." she said, content with the words she picked as Satoko nodded her head in agreement. She then stared at Mito.

"It could be someone from your clan, too." she noted with a wink.

'_Yes, I already knew that.'_

"That is a possibility." Mito said as she bit back the previous remark. Considering where her mouth had gotten her with the Uchiha leader, it would be wise to be more tactful in the future.

"It could even be _you_, you know."

This stumped her.

* * *

**That was it for today! See how early I updated? That's what happens when you review, hehe. It was kinda hard to write, though. I'm not sure I'm entirely pleased with how it turned out either. Damn.**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed, and I hope even all of you silent readers enjoyed this chapter! I may go M-rated, I may not, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.**

**I await your reviews and I'll see ya next time!**

**Ciao!**


	16. Contradictions

**Contradictions**

The next few days seemed to pass by in a blur of pointless conversations and insignificant events. The weather grew colder, and soon rain poured out of the sky for hours on end, making the roads muddy and keeping most people inside the comfort of their dry, cozy homes. Mito was disappointed; she liked taking long walks and often found that staying put in one spot for too long or without anything to distract her would make thoughts about everything and nothing fill her head until it was ready to burst. It was on these occasions that her otherwise tightly shut lips let the words flow and her talkative nature, which she usually took great care to hide, came to the surface – certainly not something to be proud of. Women were ought to stay quiet and agreeable at all times, after all. The topic, this time, was something rather specific she'd been hung up over for almost a week now.

"Don't you think so, Chizuru? To think something like _marriage _would be used for political gain! Why should it matter? Is a signed treaty between clans not enough? What makes marriage so special that one would think it would not be so easily broken? Adultery happens on a regular basis, you know!" Her short friend rolled her eyes, lying down on the floor of their little shared home as Mito paced up and down the room, trying to get rid of her pent up energy.

"Speaking of marriage," Chizuru said, winding a lock of her long, curly hair around her index finger, "I heard a certain clan leader is looking for a bride, hmm?" Her friend and cousin winked at her, completely ignoring the entire point of Mito's previous outburst as a smile formed on her lips – clueless to the other woman starting to pale. "I wonder who the lu– Mito? Mito, where are you going?" Chizuru sat up straight as Mito suddenly left the room. It was still pouring outside. "You'll catch a cold!" Mito disregarded that.

Exactly two days ago during a gloomy afternoon, Goro, her always well-intentioned uncle, had approached her and separated her from the others for a private conversation. Mito had studied his face intently as he whirled and danced around the issue, trying to figure out what he was trying to say and why she should care about the Senju clan's marital affairs. Then, her conversation with Satoko Sarutobi came back to mind. Panic had shot through her, and then Goro had finally stated what he was actually considering for her. This proposal had not come as a shock, but it still managed to suck all the blood out of her face in a matter of seconds.

"You understand, Mito, that this would greatly improve clan relations." he'd told her rather casually, as if this _wasn't _the rest of her entire life he was toying with. She could've certainly been offered a much worse match so she shouldbe grateful and honored and humbled, and yet, she wanted to resist. She wanted to say no, stand her ground no matter what they said or tried or screamed at her – but she simply couldn't fight everything she'd ever known. So she could only ask one thing before her fate was sealed and she inevitably bowed her head and accepted her superior's decision.

"Why me?" Goro had raised his eyebrows at this question, regarding her one would an ignorant child. This offended her, but her scowl went unnoticed. It was not meant to be a question demanding a significant answer; it was the only thing she could say to this, other than an outright no.

"You are the most skilled kunoichi we have, and also blessed with beauty and elegance. You are mature and obedient, and far calmer than the others. I also believe Hashirama has already taken a liking to you from what I've seen so far. I see no reason for him to object."

'_Is the absence of love not a good enough reason?' _

It was another thought left unspoken as it slowly faded into the millions of others she wanted to scream out on the top of her lungs – but for her honor, her dignity and reputation, she could not.

Now, she was walking through the streets as the rain washed over her body and soaked every inch of it. Her hair felt far too heavy to keep being held in two buns, and so she released it, letting it flow freely down to her back and felt like all her troublesome thoughts were washed away. The hem of her kimono was dirtied by the mud, though she took care of lifting it, and she smiled. She used to do this often in her village when she'd been a child and something had bothered her. She felt the water hitting her face and dripping down was almost like an instant remedy. Nothing else mattered but the sounds of drops splashing into little pools of more drops or disappearing into the ground – and though it was cold and wet and unbecoming of a lady of her stature, she couldn't care less. No one was outside with such weather, no one would see unless they gazed intently out their window, and no one could force her to go inside. If they saw her, she'd let them talk. Words had never, and would never, hurt her. At most they'd think she was a little eccentric, and she didn't mind that; it was better than being plain.

She fleetingly wondered if this would be the last time she'd give into her childish desires. She knew, knowing her uncle, that a possibility of arranged marriage would be discussed soon. Somehow, the thought of it being _her _had never crossed her mind before. Chizuru had always seemed like she'd marry before Mito, always fantasizing about a marriage that seemed to be plucked right out of a fairy tale, always talking about _that man next door _or _the one down the street_. Then again, dreaming and actually acting upon it were two different things. Mito supposed Chizuru's energetic nature wasn't particularly desirable for these men who thought they owned the world, these men who took their wives for nothing more than objects to posses – smile and nod and bow and cater to his every wish. Chizuru wasn't like that. She hadn't matured yet; she didn't realize that that's how the world worked. Mito took a deep breath, and stared up at the grey sky.

How she wished she too could've preserved that childish ignorance.

Soon the rain stopped, and Mito sighed rather sullenly, disappointed it was over already.

"Mito?" She spun around, her heart dropping to her stomach when she came face to face with Hashirama Senju – her hair a complete mess and her clothes somewhat dirty from the mud. Mito flushed, instantly lowering her head and staring down at the ground with an embarrassed look, her hands still holding up the fabric of her long kimono as she squeezed in it. She barely glanced at his two other companions.

"Um, g-good morning." she muttered, trying to hide the red blush on her cheeks.

'_Oh, why now?! Why did _you_ have to show up now? This is so embarrassing, I can't–'_

A rich, deep laughter interrupted her panicked train of thoughts and her deep blue eyes widened, looking up rather startled as they met the darker ones. He seemed rather amused. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved about that or feel worse.

"Were you enjoying the rain? You'll catch a cold, you know." Only now did Mito's gaze shift to the person standing beside her possibly future betrothed – his brother, Tobirama. She'd met him once before, though he'd been in a hurry for some reason and so she'd barely had the time to talk to him, leaving her with a confusing first impression. The considerably shorter man next to the two brothers – he was barely taller than her – she'd never seen. She looked back at Tobirama.

"I'm well aware of that." she replied quietly, awkwardly wiping a few strands of hair out of her face. "I should return home now, to change."

"Ah, hold on, I don't think we've met." The unfamiliar man with the dark, combed back spiky hair said, clearing his throat. "My name is Sas–"

"Would you stop flirting with every woman we come across? None of them are interested in tiny monkeys, so just give up." Tobirama sneered, partly making fun of the man's name. Mito figured he was a Sarutobi, then. The short man glared at his silver haired companion for a moment.

"That's because _your _ugly mug keeps scaring them off!"

"Ouch. If _my_ mug is ugly, then that means yours is a monstrosity, Saru." The two continued exchanging insults as if they were conversing about the weather, and Mito watched and listened curiously as she could tell they were probably old friends. There was a certain familiarity in the way they talked to each other, seeming completely unbothered by the other's snide remarks. She felt slightly envious of them, wishing she had someone she could talk so openly with.

"Don't mind them." Mito blinked and looked up at Hashirama, who'd spoken to her. "Allow me to escort you home."

"Oh, that really won't be necessary. I wouldn't want to bother you."

"Believe me, you'd be doing me a favor." He smiled and she noticed there was a much brighter light in his eyes than the last time she'd seen him. It seemed he was in a better mood today, and though she was interested in the reason, she wouldn't be so tactless as to blatantly ask him. That did sound like something Chizuru would do, however.

"Then… since it's okay with you, I'd be honored." she eventually replied with the slightest nod. Hashirama turned to the arguing pair of friends, informing them he'd be leaving.

"Tch, typical." the Sarutobi huffed with a jealous look, obviously displeased he hadn't gotten the chance to know Mito better. Tobirama rolled his eyes, thought didn't comment on it otherwise. The two left, one of them looking somewhat messy, though the other didn't seem to mind at all. She was grateful for this but she, nonetheless, kept herself at a slight distance as they walked. She snuck a glance at the Senju leader as they talked about everything and nothing, taking note of his attractive features and his stately composure. She found, rather fittingly, that he reminded her of a sturdy tree in the middle of a storm – one surrounded by chaos but also one which refused to break under the pressure, and what pressure there must be on his shoulders. The villagers almost seemed to worship the ground he walked on, greeting him as they passed by, fleetingly asking how he was doing or otherwise smiling warmly. He seemed to draw people to him by his mere presence; life and warmth all around him. He was Konoha's pillar, its heart, its center – its sun. The amount of mistakes you could make when you held such a vital position was _incredibly_ small.

Mito knew she was incredibly fortunate to have been deemed worthy enough to stand beside such a dominant force, in marriage or otherwise. Yet, she wasn't pleased. The sun was warm and comforting at times, but standing too close to such a magnificent power was bound to burn you. She felt so insignificant next to him, far too uncomfortable, far too small – so imposing he was. Oh, he threw her off completely, and she didn't like it.

"Do you do that a lot?" The question flustered her for a moment, which he noticed, and clarified. "Walking in the rain." Mito nodded slowly, her gaze fixated on the ground.

"It soothes me." she replied as she idly fiddled with the sleeve of her kimono. She could feel Hashirama's gaze burning right through her, and took a deep breath.

"I see. Did something bad happen?" he asked slowly, and she briefly looked up at him, meeting his concerned eyes for just a moment until she looked away again, pretending to find interest in the small children playing with a ball across the street. She thought about it for a moment.

"I wouldn't call it a bad thing any longer." Hashirama shot her a questioning gaze, and she bit her lip for a moment. No, she couldn't tell him. Not now. "It's nothing worth your concern, my lord. I'm sure you have more pressing matters to worry about." She allowed herself a soft smile to reassure him, though he didn't seem convinced.

"If that's how you feel." He relented nevertheless with a slight nod, and she felt relieved – also noticing they were very close to her house now. He eyed her for a moment, and she felt nervous, trying to act as if she didn't notice him staring. "I must say, I like your hair much better when you wear it down." Mito blinked, a little startled.

"My hair…?"

They stopped walking in front of her home. She barely noticed Chizuru peeking out the window, but couldn't break eye-contact with Hashirama. His gaze held her captive effortlessly, endless pools of black swallowing her thoughts whole. His smile blinded her.

"It has a beautiful color." he added, his fingers momentarily brushing through one of the long locks which hung around her like a thick, deep red curtain. She knew this was nothing more than a meaningless but friendly gesture with no hidden meanings behind it and no message to convey. He was careless. He didn't yet know what kind of power he held over people; no doubt so used to leading, to dominance, he didn't think of such gestures as odd since no one had probably protested them before. She held her breath, glancing at Chizuru who had, rather dramatically, clasped a hand over her mouth. Hashirama noticed this, frowned slightly, and Mito wasn't sure what to do, his fingers still locked with her hair – and oh why oh why was it always something hair-related that brought them together?

"Am I interrupting something?" The two simultaneously turned their heads into the same direction, and Hashirama's hand pulled back so fast you'd think he'd been stung by a bee. He didn't take any distance, however, and otherwise there was nothing suspicious about his behavior save for that one, sudden movement. Mito would've contemplated this more, had she not been so distracted by their new visitor.

If Hashirama Senju was Konoha's sun, then Madara Uchiha was its shadow.

* * *

It wasn't jealousy.

He stared at the hand tangled in the Uzumaki woman's hair, then glanced at the woman herself who seemed entirely too flustered to properly react. He then looked at Hashirama, who didn't seem to think anything was wrong with such a move. Madara, on the other hand, was entirely aggravated. Why was he touching her hair? Why was he smiling? What was so interesting about that Uzumaki that constantly made Hashirama drift off to her in his spare time? She was no different from the others who flocked towards him like little sheep, and yet he'd seemed to have taken a liking to her specifically. Why? Though certainly easy on the eyes, she wasn't particularly stunning nor did she possess any kind of beauty that could warrant the Senju leader's attention. She was quiet and irritatingly defiant – actually having spoken up against Madara's taunts – yet submissive at the same time. He disliked it. He disliked contradictions heavily. He couldn't wrap his head around what could've possibly interested Hashirama.

So he interrupted their little moment, having had enough of watching them float in their little bubble of a new friendship, and spoke up. His tone had been a little sharper than intended. He'd wanted to sound indifferent, but the very sight of this woman together with Hashirama made his blood boil.

It _wasn't _jealousy.

Hashirama's instant reaction, his hand pulling back as if it had been burned, pleased him.

"No, not at all." he spoke with perfect composure. Madara's eyes were fixed on his companion. His red eyes bore through her blue ones and she looked away to the side. Again, that submissive attitude, yet his first impression of her had been completely different. She'd come off as a strong-willed person, confident and ready to stand her ground. Had he been wrong? She made him feel like he could be wrong. She made him doubt his own judgment. He instantly hated her for it.

"I hadn't expected to see you here. Don't you have a festival to plan?" he then remarked apathetically, locking eyes with Hashirama. Images of that magnificent evening just a few days ago flashed before his eyes – and he knew the other was thinking of it as well. He suppressed a smirk when he caught a glimpse of that dark, longing look for just a second, then briefly looked back to the woman whom he'd nearly forgotten still existed. She'd been observing them curiously, but when Madara caught her gaze she quickly looked away again, almost seeming to be embarrassed. He glared at her for a moment.

"I was simply walking Mito home." Hashirama responded, drawing the Uchiha's attention back instantaneously. Madara took a few steps closer, eyeing the woman like a hawk would its prey.

"Is that so? She certainly doesn't look presentable." he noted with a subtle berating edge to his voice as he stared at her muddied kimono and messy hair, which seemed moist, as were her clothes. She refused to meet his eyes. "Were you caught in the rain, girl?" he asked coldly, ignoring Hashirama's scowl at him treating their guest this way. A flicker of defiance crossed her face, and Madara frowned. There it was again; suddenly, she seemed far more determined than her otherwise calm and submissive behavior might suggest. Then to his great annoyance, Hashirama actually defended her when she didn't answer immediately.

"I think she looks just fine. It's just a little bit of dirt." Hashirama declared, using that tone of complete certainty; as if he had all the answers in the world. Madara narrowed his eyes at this, never having liked that tone. Hashirama often used it during any sort of discussions of debates when he was absolutely sure he'd been right, but this had been the first time he'd used it on Madara and the younger man would be damned if he'd give into it so easily, no matter how much authority the other exuded. But in a way, he supposed, it would be that much sweeter a victory once he forced him to submit. He toyed with the idea for a while, suppressing a shiver and trying to force the inappropriate thoughts out. Getting a hard on _now _wouldn't look too good.

"I should go inside and change." Mito decided softly, then turned to look at Hashirama. "Thank you for escorting me."

"It was my pleasure."

'_I hope for his sake that that was an inane platitude and not genuine.' _

Madara sighed irately when this thought crossed his mind. He was being childish.

"Lord Uchiha," Mito said to him with a slight bow, before she quickly retreated in her home, her spying friend seeming to be rather dumbstruck as she pulled away from the window to no doubt bury the woman with questions. Madara watched her until the door closed behind her, then looked at Hashirama. He didn't say a thing and started walking. Hashirama walked beside him without a moment's hesitation.

"I have a hard time believing you're as_ innocent _as you claim to be." Madara couldn't help but remark when they'd been going on in silence for about two minutes. Hashirama frowned at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you not know that the female gender adores you or are you willfully blind?"

"This again? Madara, I already told you…." Hashirama fell silent for a moment and then simply kept staring. Madara stared back, an annoyed but questioning look. The amused smirk that appeared on the Senju's face he found to be disquieting.

"What?"

His next words were even more disquieting.

"You have nothing to fear from her." he told the younger man, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in a little closer. "I only have eyes for you." he then proceeded to whisper, and Madara stiffened, though continued walking when he felt the hot breath caress his ear and a tingling in his guts distracted him. With an infuriated glower, he shoved Hashirama's hand off.

_It wasn't jealousy. _

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hashirama merely smiled with that far too soft and adoring look in his eyes which gave Madara the urge to run. Of course he didn't, but he couldn't stand that look. It was far deeper than he was willing to go.

"I'm sure you don't."

"Don't get cocky just because of what happened that day."

"I thought I could delude myself all I wanted?"

"I changed my mind. It's annoying, so stop it."

"I can't, because I'm not the one deceiving myself here." Madara stopped walking altogether, the more battle-worn side of him begging to lash out and just punch the man in the face already. He kept his composure and instead rubbed his forehead. Hashirama was on cloud nine, and not willing to get down – which was utterly frustrating.

"Enjoy it while it lasts. After the festival, this is over." Hashirama's cheerful expression faded at this, which left Madara feeling pleased and yet entirely displeased at the same time.

What this man did to him was making his head spin with contradictions.

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" Madara gritted his teeth and abruptly started walking again, sending a clear signal he didn't want to talk about it any longer. Their whole situation was a little confusing and frustrating at the moment, but all he had to know was that this was purely _physical_ and nothing else.

Yet those love-filled eyes–

'_No, absolutely not. I refuse to fall for such cheap tricks.'_

They continued walking for another three minutes in silence, and while the conversation had ended badly, they enjoyed each other's company, though one was more willing to admit this than the other. Madara felt rather agitated, and needed to vent. He glanced sideways at Hashirama. If the man truly had such strong… _feelings _for him, would…?

"I must admit," Madara spoke coolly then, just as they passed the dango shop and wandered off to a more secluded area in the village, near the eastern border, "I was wrong about your brother." Hashirama blinked once, genuinely surprised at this sudden remark.

"Oh? You're getting along now?"

"Better than I'd imagined." Madara replied dryly, mostly lying. While he was working together with the brat, they weren't exactly on good terms with each other yet. At the very least, now he could tolerate his presence instead of outright despising him.

"I'm glad, but what spurred on this sudden change?" Hashirama inquired curiously, listlessly looking around as he every now and then smiled or waved at a villager. This behavior annoyed Madara, but he'd learnt to ignore it.

"I'm helping him with a jutsu he's working on." Hashirama promptly turned his head to gaze at him, his eyes slightly wide in blatant disbelief. "Something wrong?"

"…No. No, it just caught me off guard, that's all." Hashirama answered, quickly regaining his composure. Madara studied his face carefully, but saw no signs for what he was looking for. Yet.

"He's very bright."

"Indeed."

"Perhaps I should spend more time with him."

"That seems like a good idea." Madara stared at the Senju for this response. Hashirama wasn't stupid, it just seemed like he was far too trusting. Perhaps he should've been more obvious about it, because these subtleties weren't working whatsoever. They turned around the corner of a mostly empty street.

"I hadn't noticed it before, but he's quite handsome." Hashirama seemed speechless at this, and Madara had to hold back a chuckle seeing the pricelessly flabbergasted face which was a complete rarity. "I'm entirely serious." he said instead, and now it was Hashirama's turn to halt and scowl at this.

"What are you trying to do?" he demanded to know, evidently having grown suspicious now. Madara found he enjoyed toying with him like this more than he should've. It was an almost child-like glee he got out of it. Instead, he merely gave him a lopsided smirk as he folded his arms.

"Nothing. I'm simply stating the truth. He's attractive, even if he is unbearably annoying at times. I wouldn't mind–" He cut himself off when he _finally _saw the expression he was looking for. It was difficult to get someone as patient and composed as Hashirama to even crack, but if you did, it was well worth the effort. The scowl on his face had deepened while the look in his eyes a mixture of annoyance and something much more intense. Madara reveled in his victory for the one second he had time to revel before Hashirama suddenly glanced around subtly, and when confirming no one was there to see, he suddenly snatched Madara by his arm and dragged him into a dark alleyway right behind them, briefly pushing the younger man against the wall.

"Don't play games with me, Madara." he finally spoke, his smoldering eyes piercing through Madara's with a burning gaze, while his voice was as cold as ice. Madara grabbed Hashirama's upper arms with a taunting look, daring him to do anything. "Don't take my feelings for a joke." Madara froze for just a moment.

Had they not been so caught up in this heated moment of tension, they might've faintly heard the soft footsteps drawing closer.

"What _feelings_?!" he spat harshly. "You're blinded by something that doesn't even exist. This is nothing but a temporary–" His words were smothered by the other's mouth, and he would've gasped had he been able to. Oh, this was different from that time. The lips crushing his own felt too eager, too desperate, too overpowering, too much of everything – but it didn't matter. No, he pushed the meaning of the movements out of his mind, his head shifting slightly to the side, giving the other better access as he cherished the soft, warm lips sucking on his own. But Hashirama broke away, leaving Madara slightly dazed for a few seconds.

"I'll make you see." Hashirama spoke softly, the words carrying the weight of a precious promise while his hand cupped Madara's cheek. "I'll make you see how wrong you are, Madara." For a moment, Madara doubted himself as he looked the other into the eyes and saw nothing but affection, nothing but the utmost adoration. The lust had already faded, making place for its far more potent companion. Love.

"I can't be wrong." Madara snapped heatedly, lashing out like an animal, backed into a corner in the face of such foreign emotions. It was just too strong, too unfamiliar; Madara didn't know what to do with it but attack it – fight it. At Hashirama's stubborn look he became angrier. "I'm _not _wrong, Senju. Your damn romanticism is going to be the death of me." he hissed.

The taste of the other still lingering on his lips told him otherwise.

Hashirama sighed, his lips parting to speak once more, when both of them noticed something silver moving from their peripheral vision. They instantly released each other and took distance. Their heart beats seemed to stop in unison when realizing they had a visitor. Both of them were nailed to the ground, wondering how much of their secret they'd given away.

Tobirama, on the other hand, just kept on staring.

* * *

**Oh man, cliffhangers!**

**Don't you just love cliffhangers? I sure do. **

**Thanks for all the loads of amazing feedback and support you guys! It always makes my day when I see someone took the time to review!**

**Hope everyone enjoyed. Things are going to get a lot more complicated from now on, ehehe. Poor Hashirama doesn't even have a clue that a marriage proposal is underway yet. I wonder what he'll say. **

**Bye, bye! **


	17. Heavy

**Heavy**

He did _not_ just witness his older brother locking lips with his greatest rival.

Sure, his eyes may have picked this image up and transmitted it to his brain, but there must've been some kind of error in the process because his brother committing such an act – with his former archenemy, no less – was about as likely as Tobirama deciding he didn't want to be a man anymore and cutting his own penis off.

When the two had finally noticed his presence, they froze.

An awkward moment of staring followed. His brother opened his mouth.

"Hashirama, I swear, if you even so much as think of saying, _I can explain_, I'm out of here." And so the mouth closed again. The silence resumed as Tobirama looked from one to the other, not sure what to do or think with such a ridiculous situation presented before him. Hashirama had a deep frown on his face but other than irritation and guilt there was nothing to note. Madara's expression was perfectly blank, save for the resentful glare his eyes were glinting with. Tobirama narrowed his eyes at this, as it was no secret he'd never been very trustful of the Uchiha; Madara in particular. Well, seeing your brother getting cut up and bruised battle after battle tended to make you suspicious of the perpetrator, peace treaty or no.

Of course Tobirama hadn't exactly been blind either. He'd always suspected there was _something _going on there, but to think it had gone so deep surprised him. At least this explained why Hashirama was so intent on avoiding the subject of marriage. Tobirama couldn't say he cared much at all for what his sexual orientation was nor did he care whether his brother decided to settle down or not, that was all up to him – but really, it had to be _this_ man? The one that had caused him so much pain and suffering in the past?

"Are you a masochist?" The frustrated thought left him before he could even help it. "Out of all the people you could pick–"

"Don't misunderstand," Madara interrupted coldly, the awkward atmosphere twisting into a hostile one – and Tobirama felt like the intruder. It was all _wrong_. "All of this is only temporary. I don't intend to stay."

From Hashirama's expression, Tobirama gathered that he disagreed.

'_Oh god, don't tell me he's in love.' _

"You're awfully casual about this. Aren't you afraid I'll talk?"

"And what? Ruin your precious older brother's reputation? Doubtful." Madara snorted, crossing his arms as he made his point. "Besides, you'll be rid of me before you know it."

Hashirama's expression darkened.

'_Shit, he's in love.' _Tobirama observed Madara. _'And that bastard either doesn't know or doesn't care what he's doing to him.' _

"I came here looking for Hashirama. Goro wishes to see you. He's waiting outside the compound." the youngest among them spoke coolly, switching the subject for a moment though he certainly had no intention of letting it go just yet.

"What for?" Hashirama questioned, his posture and composure back to being the embodiment of serenity – even if the usual warm twinkle in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

"He didn't say." Tobirama replied, shaking his head though he kept his eyes fixed on Madara, like a cat eyeing its prey. Madara stared back with a derisive look, as if taunting him to say something about what he'd just witnessed. Hashirama then nodded, sparing the silent Uchiha one last glance as he walked away, though his younger brother stopped him for a moment by placing a hand on his shoulder, the two standing right next to each other. "I hope you know what you're doing." Tobirama said with sincere concern hidden in his words.

"I don't think I do." Hashirama responded quietly with a half-hearted smile, and resumed walking, leaving the two men behind in the alleyway. Two pairs of red eyes then resumed their glaring competition, and seconds ticked by in a tense silence when Tobirama took a step forward.

"You realize that you're–"

"Playing with fire? Yes, I'm well aware of that." Madara replied with a strangely amused smirk; as if there was a joke Tobirama was missing. "It's a good thing I'm a Katon master then, don't you think?"

"This isn't funny, Madara." Tobirama snarled, taking another two steps towards him as the other's smirk faded; it had been just another veil to hide his unease and the conflict dancing in his eyes. He averted his gaze for just a moment, but did not respond. "Where do you think this will lead?"

"I already said I didn't–"

"I don't care about _you_." Tobirama interrupted him brusquely, walking to the side for a few steps as if he started circling his target. Madara's eyes followed him with silent ire, his arms still crossed as his fingers dug themselves into the skin of his arms. "We both know he isn't the type to mess around. He's serious about this, and I'll be damned if I let you step all over him for your own selfish desires." Madara sucked in a deep breath for a moment as he observed the younger Senju, before letting the air escape in mocking chuckles.

"How adorable." he sneered, not even flinching when Tobirama took another step in his direction, glaring at him so openly in the eyes with a few inches separating them from an otherwise inevitable clash – Madara nearly laughed at how arrogant he was, staring a Sharingan user in the eyes like that. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Hashirama is your clan leader, is he not? This was his decision, so I suggest you stay out of it."

"What do you want from him?" Tobirama demanded to know, his eyebrows furrowed in aggravation. "You probably don't care, but he sees you as a true friend. I admit I didn't think much of you before, but you didn't seem like the type of lowlife scum who'd use others for their own benefit." All trace of sarcastic humor faded from the Uchiha leader's face as he returned Tobirama's glare with the same intensity.

"I'm not _using _anyone. This is perfectly consensual."

"You're toying with him!" Tobirama accused him, raising his voice as he did not break eye contact even once. "You're taking this as a fling while he–"

"And so what if I do?!" Madara snapped, his patience finally cracking under the pressure. "What does it matter? This isn't _love_. This is lust, this is passion; it will all disappear over time." Tobirama stayed silent and studied his face for a while, as if trying to understand an impossible formula.

"You're lying." he muttered. "Do you expect me to believe, with so much history between the two of you, that this means nothing to you?" Madara opened his mouth slightly, but then pursed his lips together, refusing to answer. Tobirama watched for a reaction, but all he saw was anger and more internal conflict. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. As long as you refuse to be sincere, I refuse to let you to hurt him."

"Hurt him? Tch, had he been _that _sensitive, then I wouldn't have bothered."

"Why are you even doing this if it is, as you claim, nothing serious?" Tobirama continued to question, ignoring the previous statement. "Why Hashirama? Why not someone from your own clan?"

"What could I say to that?" Madara mused irritably. "What would you like to hear? That I'm trying to destroy him?"

"No, though I would expect something like that to be the case either way." the younger Senju huffed, getting severely frustrated with the lack of response from Madara's side. "I do wonder what Izuna would–" The air was knocked right out of his lungs as he was slammed brutally into the wall of the alleyway, red eyes spinning dangerously in an expression of fury.

"You have no right to speak of my brother." Madara hissed, gripping Tobirama's shirt tight as he kept him pinned to the cold surface behind him. Tobirama gritted his teeth, grasping the other's wrists.

"Is that so? Do you think he'd be pleased with you playing with other people's feelings like this?" He was pushing it, but he didn't care. Madara needed to get his head out of his ass, and apparently he was the only one willing to knock some sense into him. If he didn't, it would be at his brother's cost. "Going so low as to target an ally, no less?"

"_What do you know about Izuna?!" _

He'd certainly hit a sensitive spot there. Unperturbed by Madara's anger, Tobirama stared down at him calmly, even if his hands were itching to sock him in the face and be done with it. Madara, similarly, looked on the verge of strangling him.

"I've seen enough of him to know he was a respectable man." He paused for a moment, trying to figure out when exactly this thing between the Uchiha and his brother had started to develop. It had been a short while after the funeral, had it not? Before then they'd certainly interacted with each other like friends, but he hadn't picked up the suspicious signals a while after Izuna's death. Tobirama, convinced of Madara's selfishness, then said something he probably shouldn't have. "Or are you trying to fill a hole in your heart by trying to replace him with another? Well, it's not exactly the same, but I could understand–"

If Tobirama hadn't had such naturally fast reflexes, he probably would've ended up with a broken nose and a skull fracture or two. As it was, he managed to shift his head to the side just in time to avoid the fist coming his way, which bore itself into the wall instead, cracking the stone under the furious force as the sound of the collision echoed through the alleyway. Tobirama's eyes were wide, realizing he'd made his mistake, as Madara's were hidden under locks of his wild hair, breathing heavily, trying to control whatever homicidal urges he had at the moment. The second that followed _right after_ was probably even stupider than what had just happened, seeing as how, well, Tobirama countered with a kick.

And so they got tangled in a battle which only served to relieve their complete frustration with each other which had been brewing at the surface of their skin for quite some time now. It seemed to both of them that the only way they could ever truly get along was beating each other to hell and back, making them too exhausted to argue even further.

So when Tōka found the two half an hour later, both bloodied and covered in bruises, their clothes torn and tattered, sitting next to each other against the wall as they were catching their breaths in the rubble of shattered stones and bricks, you could imagine the bemusement that fell on her face as she stared at them.

"That… that was a win for me." Tobirama grunted, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand.

"_You _collapsed earlier than I did." Madara retorted wryly, leaning his head back against the wall. Neither of them were looking at each other.

"I'll admit I lost, if you admit you have the serious hots for my brother."

"Absolutely not."

"Fine. Then both of you can end up like miserable wrecks and drown together in your made-up little sea of misery and torment. See if I care."

And just like that, whatever argument they'd had before had been solved entirely with fists.

Tōka knew right then and there that she would never understand the male psyche.

Madara casually glanced at her.

"Does she know?" Tobirama followed his gaze as he spotted the flustered advisor and smirked at her.

"Most likely."

"Tsk. Who else did Hashirama tell it to? You'd think everyone in the village and their mother knows."Madara slowly stood up again, looking less ruffled than Tobirama who didn't make a move to get up at all.

"Your secret is safe with her. She's trustworthy."

"I'd hope so." Madara responded icily, sending a glare at Tōka as he then walked past her and left the scene. The woman blinked, staring down at an injured and stupidly grinning Tobirama, placing her hands on her hips like a mother about to scold her son.

"_What _was that about?" she asked with a scowl, not making any motion to help him or check his injuries.

"I just had an epiphany."

"What would that be? That you're actually an idiot disguised as a genius? I already knew that."

"Easy there, I'm already wounded you know." Tobirama finally slowly stood up from the ground as he used the wall as leverage, carefully wiping the filth off his clothes. "No, I just realized Hashirama will probably be forever miserable." Tōka walked over to him, looking over the bruises and other injuries he'd acquired in the taijutsu fight.

"I'd figured as much. If it's up to Madara, at least."

"For having the most powerful eyes in his clan, he's pretty damn blind." Tōka's lips twitched at that, though she stayed serious as she wiped the dust off Tobirama's cheeks. It reminded her of the time they'd been kids, wherein he always vouched for adventure and when he got home injured it was up to her to scold him for it and look after him as an older sister figure.

"You want to do something about that." she stated as he straightened up, putting a hand through his more-messy-than-usual-hair.

"Hashirama deserves to be happy." he muttered. "And I guess if he's determined to find that happiness with Madara, then, well, he's an idiot. But it's also his decision."

"Can't we just talk him out of it?" Tobirama shot her a sardonic look.

"The last time I tried to talk him out of something was with the peace treaty with the Uchiha, and look what happened."

"I see your point." Tōka said with a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. "So what do we do?"

"There's not much we _can _do. Though…." Tobirama said contemplatively, obviously thinking up some sort of plan to ensure his brother from getting his heart obliterated. He'd rarely seen Hashirama give any such affectionate looks or talk about someone in such a praising way as he did for Madara. He was determined, and there was nothing in the world that could undermine Hashirama's determination. He was the single most stubborn man in the whole world – and so the only thing Tobirama could do was assist him like he always did. Even if in this particular case, Hashirama didn't know it.

"What are you planning, Tobirama?"

He merely smirked.

* * *

When Hikaku saw his clan leader walk back to his home bloodied and injured, brushing off everyone who showed even the slightest bit of concern, he decided Madara had gone just about too far. He'd refused to talk about Izuna's death, he'd pretty much either locked himself up in his house or wandered aimlessly around the village, and only when his presence was absolutely needed did he bother to show up for any sort of meeting. _Someone _needed to set him straight.

So when the man finally reached his home, Hikaku having followed him, and just as he was about to open his door, he stopped and turned around to face his cousin.

"What do you want?" he asked with a slight frown, seeming to be in a bad mood.

"You're injured."

"An astute observation."

"Spare me your sarcasm for just this once and let me treat your wounds."

"And where do you get off talking to me like that?"

"You're not scaring me away." There was a brief stare-off before Madara saw he wasn't changing his mind and relented, getting in the house and leaving the door open. Hikaku let out a sigh of relief and followed swiftly. When he then pulled off his shoes and continued to the living room, he immediately noticed that all portraits on the walls were gone. He watched Madara sit down, leaning against the low table as he stared at the bookcase in which he'd collected numerous scrolls and books on combat and warfare. Hikaku wondered what was going through his mind as he went to the bathroom to fetch some bandages, a cloth and alcohol to disinfect the wounds with. He was no medic, but since Madara had an intense hatred for those, the man didn't leave him with much choice.

He silently sat down next to him when having everything he needed to treat his wounds, starting with the arm. The wounds weren't too deep, at least. He asked him what at happened, to which Madara said he got into a simple spar with Tobirama Senju. Hikaku raised his eyebrows at this.

"Huh. He got stronger." the younger Uchiha murmured, curious to the man now. Perhaps he should challenge him for a friendly fight himself, to see how far his skill really reached. Madara seemed to have read his mind and scoffed.

"Don't bother. He's too much for you." This, of course, only made Hikaku more determined to see for himself. Nonetheless, there was something more important he wanted to address.

"Madara, about Izuna–" The scowl he received was less than inviting, but he didn't back down. "You realize trying to ignore this will only make it worse?"

"I haven't been _ignoring_ anything." Madara snapped at him, though Hikaku was not impressed.

Madara hadn't, really. How could he? Just because he didn't talk about it, didn't mean he could've possibly forgotten. The incident with Tobirama had shook him to the core. What _was _he doing? This whole thing with Hashirama, it was just him trying to run away from the pain. As much as he hated to admit it, the Senju made him feel good again. He was the anesthetic to his suffering, easing it bit by bit. Madara realized, this could be dangerous. He needed to deal with this on his own, and though the affections of the other numbed and wiped all his worries away, it could prove addictive in the long run – but Madara was entirely convinced he was strong enough to withstand it. Like he himself had said, this was nothing as deep as love. It was lust.

It _had _to be lust.

Tobirama had also been wrong on one thing; he'd _never _try to replace Izuna with anyone, he couldn't ever. Even if he wanted to, it was impossible. Hashirama… he was something else entirely. It still weighed him down like an iron ball chained to his feet, because ultimately, there was the smallest part of him that wondered – what if this went too far? What if, by some miraculous event, Hashirama convinced him this was something more? Izuna had been the only person he'd ever truly loved, as a brother, but also as his most precious person. His mother had died when they'd been young, and their father had never shown much affection either. If he… _if _he actually – and this was impossible, _impossible_, but in a hypothetical situation – started loving Hashirama, how could he not see that as anything else but betraying his brother? Replacing him with someone else, filling that empty space up with someone else's love?

"Madara, he wouldn't want you to punish yourself like this. He'd want you to move on with your life." Hikaku said quietly when seeing the conflicted look in his eyes, bandaging his upper arm in the meantime. Madara glanced at him, a ghost of a smile forming on his face.

"I was told once by a friend that it's never that easy with me. At the time I thought he was talking nonsense, but now I understand what he meant." Hikaku stayed silent as he stared at his leader. He was starting to tear himself apart, and no words could reach him. If only he _knew _what was bothering him, Hikaku could help, but he knew he wasn't going to pull anything out of Madara anytime soon.

All he could do was keep him company for as long as the man allowed it. After he was done treating him, he stayed for a while longer, filling Madara in on what was going on with the clan – and he seemed pleased to hear there was complete serenity – to which the sky turned dark and Hikaku decided to leave.

"Madara, this friend you mentioned…." Hikaku started, before briefly hesitating as he stood at the front door, about to leave. "Could he help you with whatever it is you're dealing with?" he then asked, considering Madara didn't seem to want to accept help from anyone of his clan. Madara stared at him for a while, before a humorless laughter filled the hallway as Hikaku gazed at him in bewilderment, wondering if his clan leader's sanity had finally snapped. The hollow laughs died down and Madara sighed.

"Leave, Hikaku." he only said, turning his back on him and retreating to his living room.

"…As you wish." Hikaku muttered, closing the door behind him.

Once again, Madara was alone.

* * *

"Marriage?"

'_No.' _A single word screamed through his head. _'__**No**__.' _

Goro regarded him with a smile, Mito standing right next to him as they were seated in his living room, accompanied by the elders and advisers of his clan. While Hashirama's world had frozen for a single moment, the people around him discussed the benefits of such an arrangement. Hashirama ignored all of them, staring directly at Mito who was ever the silent observer. He frowned slightly, and when she finally made eye contact, he could see the doubt clouding her otherwise clear eyes.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, the room immediately going silent at his words. Mito blinked, not having expected that question.

"Obviously it is, or the girl wouldn't be here." his aunt argued with a frown.

"Is this what you want, Mito?" Hashirama repeated the question, ignoring whatever remarks the others made. Mito looked away, glanced at Goro, glanced down at her knees, and was silent for a few seconds before she nodded.

He knew she was lying.

"Well then, that settles it."

"Let's not be hasty," Hashirama remarked sharply. "If I may ask, why does the Uzumaki clan think it necessary for such an arrangement?" he questioned, looking directly at Goro and once again ignoring the disapproving scowls of the elders.

"it would be only fitting, to bring our clans closer together through such a union. Of course, if you're not satisfied with the… offer–" Mito nearly winced at that, which Hashirama noticed.

"Not at all." he amended swiftly. "But I have to admit this came as a surprise to me. I will have to discuss this with the lady in question." He looked around the people surrounding the table. "In private." he emphasized. "Then I will think about it. I have much to do with the festivities being prepared in the village, so it will take a few days. Now, if you'd take your leave?" Goro seemed mildly displeased, but stood up and bowed nonetheless, saying a few formal words of goodbye as he then took his leave. The elders seemed entirely angry at him now, but he couldn't much bring himself to care as he, in a more brusque tone, told them to leave as well.

That just left him and Mito. She took a deep breath, trying her best to avoid his eyes. He wondered why he made her so nervous. Usually he always set people at ease, but she seemed to be a different case. He watched her for a moment, before deciding that staring might just make her even more uneasy.

"Is this what you want, Mito?" he asked again in a much softer tone.

"I… it would certainly be beneficial for–"

"Humor me and forget about the clan for a moment." Hashirama interrupted her, not wanting to hear any of the diplomatic talk she'd been fed by Goro. She seemed flustered, but also seemed to start getting irritated.

"What about you? Is this what _you _want?" she shot the question back at him, having been backed in a corner. It didn't faze Hashirama in the slightest.

"No, and I plan on rejecting the proposal."

"Then why do you ask me for my opinion?"

"Well, rejecting someone like you might seem a little strange – and I wouldn't want to humiliate you. It would be easier if you were willing to coöperate. Act a little rebellious, if you at all care for your reputation once I decline the offer." Hashirama explained calmly, Mito looking entirely perplexed.

"But how could you do that so easily? Does your clan not expect certain things of you?"

"And who would force me to do something I do not want?" Hashirama pointed out with an amused smile. "Such are the benefits of being the strongest."

"I… I see." she muttered softly, staring down at her knees again. Hashirama examined her again for a moment. She was uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, do I make you nervous?" he asked kindly. She blushed a little, embarrassed by the question.

"I'm not exactly used to dealing with a man of your stature." Mito then answered truthfully, though he could tell she was relieved. "What did you mean with rejecting someone like me?"

"Hmm?" Hashirama put his arms on the table, leaning forward a little as he thought about how to formulate this without making her uneasy. "It would look odd if I rejected such a skilled and beautiful kunoichi. Had you been more plain, I could've pulled it off without your help." The blush on her face deepened, though not out of embarrassment, but then she scowled.

"Truly, you should be more careful with your words, my lord." she said in a tone that reminded him of when his mother scolded him for refusing to take a bath when he'd been a child. He was a little surprised.

"Pardon? My words?" he repeated, until Madara's words came to mind.

"_Do you do that often? Flirting with random women?" _

_"Do you not know that the female gender adores you or are you willfully blind?" _

"_I'm sure _she _didn't see it that way." _

"You have a way with words, and with all due respect, I don't think you realize it." Mito continued on, the blush fading from her face.

"Oh, I do. But I tend to forget. My apologies." he said, though he didn't mean it much, going from the entertained look on his face.

"I pity whoever _does _marry you." she said with a chuckle, though she was alarmed at her own words when he saw the startled look from the man sitting across her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean–"

"No, no it's fine. I never knew you had a sense of humor." he quickly interrupted her with a friendly grin. "You bring up an interesting point. To marry or not to marry, that is indeed the question."

"Oh? That sounds awfully poetic. Do you not intend to marry?"

"No." Mito seemed rather puzzled by this.

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"Because it's customary."

"Customs are meant to be broken."

"I'm certain that saying only applies to rules, my lord."

"Rules are often a part of customs, aren't they?"

"You have a point." They smiled at each other, having completely forgotten about their clan's demands as they continued to chat with each other as if they'd been old friends. But Mito still worried. She didn't know if she could truly refuse what her clan demanded of her, and though Hashirama seemed so sure in what he was doing, it was far more difficult for her.

She just hoped this wouldn't end up in a conflict.

* * *

Rumors spread fast. A single sentence can be taken out of context, twisted as it passes from one person to the next, and before you know it someone gets hurt.

When Goro met Chizuru that day right after the meeting, he let it slip that they'd been busy with the marriage negotiations. Chizuru, so excited about this that she, in her hasty nature, barely caught the words of Hashirama's reluctance in Goro's next sentence as she went on the next day to declare to a certain Sarutobi girl working in a café about the arrangements. Satoko, not knowing the full story, told her customers about this the rest of the day as she had small talk with them during her job.

One of these customers, happening to be Tobirama, saw the perfect opportunity of putting something into motion that was, like all of his plans, incredibly risqué but with a huge gaining opportunity if it worked out for the best.

So he passed the news along to his friends, which included Sasuke Sarutobi. The Sarutobi clan, specifically Sasuke, were one of the few which the Uchiha clan did not look down upon and actually got along with somewhat – and so when Sasuke happened to see Hikaku Uchiha at a bar, he joined him for a drink and let the news slide.

Hikaku, good-natured as he was, figured Madara would want to know about this considering he was rather close to the Senju clan leader.

All Madara heard were "Hashirama", "marriage", and "Mito".

It was enough.

* * *

**PHEW. That was a little harder to write than I'd first expected!**

**Now updates may come slow for the next few weeks seeing as how I'm on a two-week Christmas break from school and right after that I have two weeks of exams ahead of me, so studying comes first.**

**Well, I really hope you're pleased with this one. Thanks to all who reviewed, I really appreciate it! Don't forget to drop a review again, and I'll see you guys next time!**


	18. Madness

**Madness**

His world was on the precipice of complete and utter chaos.

With a voice he couldn't even identify as his own, so hoarse it sounded and so foreign it rang to his ears as his lips were the only thing that moved, he ordered Hikaku to leave after thanking him for the news.

He took a deep breath, and repeated the same sentence Hikaku had uttered in his head over and over.

Nothing but that.

"_Hashirama Senju is engaged to Mito Uzumaki."_

He took another breath and his vision turned red as the news finally sank in.

How _dare _that man, _how dare he_, after all that happened between them how _could _he, unless he didn't care, unless he took Madara for a fool – and that woman, that _whore_, who did _she _think she was – but how could he have agreed to it, and had he misjudged Hashirama's character, had he mistakenly thought him to be the sole person on this entire rotten corpse of a planet to have even a shred of dignity in him, and had this, had _they _been just a game–

At that point, his thoughts turned incomprehensible as his mind was on the fine line between pure, murderous rage and complete bemusement. He tried to calm himself down, as in this state, the most that could happen was giving himself an aneurysm. He put a hand through his hair, breath hissing through his teeth as he then ground them together. It seemed he'd have to reconsider the respectable image he'd created of Hashirama inside his mind.

A small voice told him that perhaps he was being a little hasty. It was promptly overpowered by the intense anger ringing through his skull as he stood up, walking over to the door leading to his backyard to finally let Momo in, who'd been meowing at him for several minutes now.

_Marriage_.

What could that man be thinking? He'd seemed so adamant in his belief that this was not just a casual fling, he'd seemed so determined into convincing Madara of this as well – had that been a lie? He couldn't possibly think Madara would be content with being a _boy toy_; a mere lover on the side. Had he gone mad? Was he really _that _naïve? Or had he simply thought no one would find out until the actual ceremony and he could use Madara for his own benefit?

But moreover, _why did Madara care so much_?

The anger subsided gradually as a silent fear started to rise. Why did it matter? _He _had been the one to insist this was temporary, so why did he get so worked up over what Hashirama planned in the future, when _they _would already be over and done with?

He shook his head, closing the door again. It _couldn't_ be… no, the only reason he was so angry was because Hashirama hadn't bothered telling him he was planning something like this.

That lie was so horrible even Madara couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Fine, so maybe he was confused at the moment. It was easy to mistake the feelings you got from physical contact for genuine feelings of… _love_. He just needed to, well, give Hashirama a piece of his mind in person – without killing him in a fit of rage, that is – and sort this out. He decided that was the only thing he could do at the moment, next to brooding inside his room and plotting to violently murder that Uzumaki wench; which really wouldn't be all that productive, even if it would make him feel better.

So he put on his shoes and left, heading towards the center of the village. It was quiet, and for once there was no rain nor the cold wind which had haunted the town for the past week. The trees kept losing their leafs which were spread all over the still muddy ground, but it seemed like the sky was gradually clearing up. Lucky, considering there was a small festival planned in the next few days. As he passed by the inhabitants he could pick up a few words about how everyone seemed to be preparing for it and how relieved they were that they got a nice break after all the hard work they'd put in building the village. Madara sighed at this, and highly doubted they'd be talking like that if they'd known how much work _Hashirama _had put into it by comparison. The man had damn near created the entire infrastructure and a majority of the houses and buildings.

Madara then did try to ignore the conversations about the recent engagement, but with every step he took it was starting to get harder and harder to keep his face devoid of any emotion as the frustration kept gnawing at him from the inside while the villagers around him only poured more salt into the wounds.

"Have you seen her? She's such a quiet girl."

"Very composed, very elegant. I think she makes a perfect match."

"Yes, a man of his stature deserves only the best."

"He needs an dutiful spouse, of course. An obedient wife to look after their children later."

Oh how he wished he could just strike them dead right then and there.

* * *

Tobirama wondered how long it would take before Madara went on a rampage, and was surprised to see the man walking calmly through the streets of Konoha, and was even mildly disappointed. Seeing the Uchiha clan leader clobber villagers to death wouldn't have been a pleasant sight, but morbidly hilarious all the same. He wondered if he should've added a little more to the rumor before telling Sasuke. He hadn't come up with anything at the time, but he was curious to see Madara's reaction if he let it slip that Mito was suspected of being pregnant with Hashirama's kid.

Then again, that could easily backfire and instead forever destroy Hashirama's happiness, considering Madara would _definitely _fly into a horrible fit of rage then. But for the moment, Tobirama was amazed that the Uchiha was handling the situation so well. At the same time he knew it probably wouldn't be enough to make the blind fool realize he was heads over heels in love. In this state, the most that could happen was Hashirama brushing the rumors off, too considerate of Madara's feelings to question his anger, and Madara would sink deeper into denial. So _something _had to be done before Madara actually found Hashirama.

That something presented itself in the form of Mito Uzumaki. Tobirama grinned deviously as the young woman with a slight frown on her face tried dodging the questions of her friend as they came out of a small tea shop, and he made his way over to the two ladies, greeting them with a polite smile. Tōka, who'd been with him, gave him a scowl but followed nonetheless.

"Mito, my brother wishes to speak with you. He's right outside the village, in the training grounds." he informed her kindly. Mito nodded, stating she'd head over there in a few minutes, and seemingly left with her friend.

But Mito was no fool, she could just tell by the look on Tobirama's face he was plotting some sort of scheme. So, she did the shinobi thing to do and told Chizuru to go ahead without her once they were out of earshot of the two Senju, and quickly hid in a nearby alleyway, curious as to what it was Tobirama had in mind for his brother. She could barely pick up the words and had to focus with her back pressed against the cold stones, hoping she wasn't too noticeable to any villagers passing by.

"What was that?" she heard Tōka ask with a suspicious frown, crossing her arms.

"I'm going to need your help with this one." Tobirama replied, ignoring her question. There was a slight pause. "What? All you need to do is, er, create a _romantic_ environment for the two of them."

Mito was bewildered.

"How and why would I do that?"

"As to how, well, be creative. As to why, that is a little more complicated. I will be keeping Madara busy for about ten minutes before showing him the way, enough time for you to make it seem like those two are having a private moment."

"So? All that would do is make Madara explode in a fit of rage and jealousy."

'_Jealousy?' _Mito thought, blinking at the thought. Of who would he be jealous? Hashirama? He _couldn't _have feelings for her, not with the disdainful looks and berating comments he shot her way every time she was around. She nearly gasped as she realized–

"Aha, but what do you think that jealousy would make him realize? Either my brother will point it out, or he himself will finally understand how deeply he cares."

She was completely dumbstruck. The signs, in hindsight, had been there, and it had been so obvious, but she'd never expected – especially not from Hashirama – that they'd… they'd actually see each other in such a light. She carefully sneaked away, not sure how to deal with such information. At least now Hashirama's rejection made more sense as well. Mito bit her lip, not happy with being dragged into such an intricate situation. If word got out of this, their reputations would be ruined. She had to keep it secret, and though Madara hadn't been quite civil with her, Hashirama certainly didn't deserve having to go through that. She wasn't sure what to think of this, but she was also more open-minded than most people. If they... loved each other and were happy that way, who was she to judge them?

But then, what would her next step be from this point on? Tobirama expected her to play right along, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to incur Madara's wrath upon her. Though she was curious as well, to see how it would all play out. Obviously there were still issues between the two of them, and perhaps if those issues were resolved, and Madara had certainty she was of no threat to him, the cold glares that promised a tortuous death would finally cease. She decided it was worth a shot – though she also really had no idea what she was actually doing – and left towards the training grounds, outside of the village.

* * *

Hashirama sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead as Sasuke applauded his win in the sparring match between him and Hideki Hyuuga with loud claps. Hashirama extended his hand to the man and helped him get off the ground after having knocked him off his feet with a steady kick to the gut after a long taijutsu match.

"Don't get so worked up. I would've definitely lost if he'd used his Byakugan." Hashirama told Sasuke with an annoyed tone, who rolled his eyes.

"Can't you ever just boast about something? It wouldn't kill you." the Sarutobi responded, as he'd been leaning against a tree near the open meadow, which was surrounded by trees, and had observed the match the entire time. Hideki brushed some dirt off his pants, pretty much ignoring the conversation as he went through the spar in his head, analyzing his mistakes and trying to see where he'd left openings while the other two continued their conversation.

"It was merely a spar."

"It was an impressive one."

"Enough of that, Sasuke." Hashirama decided to end the matter, as he really didn't like people overstating or exaggerating his feats. It had been nothing but a friendly match to keep their abilities sharp, nothing more, and it didn't have nearly enough importance to be treated as if it were a competition. Truly, Sasuke could be so immature at times. The Sarutobi opened his mouth for a retort, but promptly shut it as a visitor entered his line of sight. Hashirama noticed his gaze and turned around. He was surprised to see Mito walking over to them – immediately noticing from her closed off poise she was nervous or anxious about something. Hideki and Sasuke exchanged glances.

"Well, I suppose it's time we leave." the Hyuuga muttered, giving Hashirama a knowing look as Sasuke smirked. Of course Hashirama didn't quite know what this was about; he'd been honing his skills since the early morning and had missed out on all the talk going on in the village. Sasuke and Hideki had joined him for training later, though hadn't mentioned a thing to him as they figured he'd be sick of having to keep hearing about his engagement.

"Lady Mito, good afternoon! Dare I say you look lovely on–"

"Let's _go_, Sarutobi." Hideki snapped at the man, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away before the man had the chance to flirt even more with the flustered Uzumaki. As the two walked away, Mito's gaze shifted to Hashirama again, a pink blush forming on her cheeks as she briefly stared at his exposed torso; his shirt lying next to him and discarded on the ground, leaving his well-toned chest and abs visible.

"H-hi," she stammered, embarrassed as she realized she'd been staring. Hashirama chuckled amused at this reaction.

"Hello," he said as he bent down to pick up his shirt. "What brings you here? Most of the village is preparing for the festival, you know."

"Oh, well, I… I was wondering, if you'd heard the rumors." she asked quietly, inching closer to him with her right hand clutching her left arm. This stiff attitude struck him as odd, but he was a little too distracted by her words.

"No, I haven't." he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He really should've tied his hair before sparring, because now it just stuck to his sweaty skin, which was really irritating him at the moment.

"It seems the village thinks we're getting married."

Hashirama blinked.

"_What_?"

Mito was surprised by the heavy reaction, but Hashirama had instantly realized, in that split-second, this meant that Madara must've also heard – and if Madara had heard such misinformation, then things weren't looking to good for either Hashirama or Mito. He just hoped the man wouldn't vent his frustration on someone else and felt confrontational enough to face Hashirama instead. After all, he was the only one who could handle Madara's anger. Everyone else did well to run and hide to the best of their ability. Mito bit her lip, and took another step towards him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, staring up at his bemused expression.

"Yes, fine. I need to go speak to someone." he decided, starting to walk past her. Panic flashed in Mito's eyes, and she suddenly reached out to his arm – when she tripped and fell. Hashirama made a motion to catch her, when he could swear he suddenly felt the earth _shift _beneath his feet and as he caught her in his arms, fell down on his back with Mito lying down on top of him, her eyes wide in shock and a furious red blush covering her face. Hashirama, on the other hand, was more than experienced enough someone had set that up with a Doton jutsu – and he'd bet his right hand on that it was Tobirama's doing.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't–"

"_What _are you two doing?" an icy voice cut in, interrupting Mito as the two froze, turning their heads and facing a pair of shoes, which were attached to a pair of legs, which belonged to a certain Madara Uchiha who looked anything but happy. Mito hurriedly got off of Hashirama, scrambling up to stand a little clumsily as Hashirama was much calmer and slowly got off the ground.

"We tripped and fell." Hashirama answered with all the composure in the world, though meanwhile, carefully gauging Madara's anger levels. Mito, on the other hand, was entirely regretting ever having shown up as it was now a certainty that Madara would like to maim her with a kitchen knife, as far as she could tell from his furious looks, anyhow.

"You expect me to believe that?" the impulsive Uchiha spat, venom dripping off his words as he now focused his unforgiving glare on Hashirama, who didn't back down.

"Mito, I think it would be best for you to leave."

He didn't have to tell her twice.

She nodded and swiftly made her leave, her heart still pounding from what had just happened. She hoped those two would work it out; being the victim of Madara's glares of death was only marginally better than putting your hand through a meat grinder.

"Do you take me for a fool, Senju?" Madara hissed at Hashirama, his blood boiling at what he'd just seen. To him it was only a confirmation of what he already knew. His fingers were dangerously twitching, longing for retribution. Hashirama, on the other hand, kept a clear head. He studied Madara's face for a few seconds, and slowly realized that perhaps he could use this situation to his advantage.

But first, to calm down Madara.

"I don't know what you've heard, but the rumors aren't true."

Apparently, that had not been the way to go at it as Madara took a few steps until there were only inches apart, his Sharingan blazing with rage. Hashirama discreetly closed his eyes, not putting it above the Uchiha to use a genjutsu and make him suffer for what he'd supposedly done.

"I would've never thought you'd be such a horrible liar." he heard Madara snarl at him, feeling the breath brush over his face with every word.

"I _rejected _the proposal. The elders of my clan disagreed, so the rumors must've come from one of them to put pressure on me." Madara let out a humorless laugh.

"Is that how it is? Then the two of you rolling over the ground means nothing, doesn't it? It was all just one big misunderstanding!" The yelling ticked Hashirama off, and he opened his eyes with a deep scowl, realizing this wasn't getting them anywhere.

"Madara, even if I _were _engaged… why are you so angry?" The man froze for a moment, eyes widening slightly before the fury set back in again.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything – you tricked me into thinking you were sincere about this–"

"Why do you care?" Hashirama demanded, getting tired of him dodging the subject. He was a man with a lot of patience, but this was wearing on him. Madara just refused to see what was obviously there, denied everything the best he could, stepped on his feelings and made light of the situation – and Hashirama wasn't so sure he could take much more of that before finally breaking. "Wasn't this all just a _casual fling_ to you to begin with?"

"_Shut up_!"

"What does it matter, then, if I decide to move onto anoth–"

Before he even realized it, he was down on the ground, the sudden fist colliding with his nose having flustered him somewhat. He felt the blood drip down his face and over his lips, and narrowed his eyes as he held his nose while Madara glowered down at him, right hand clutched into a ball. His patience took a small vacation as he got off the ground again, having just about enough with Madara's behavior.

"You complete _idiot_!"

"_What_?!"

"Didn't I tell you already that it wasn't true?! Where do you get off on pretending like you don't care about us and then throwing a temper tantrum the next?!"

"Oh, that's _rich_ coming from a lying piece of filth. And to think you'd almost had me fooled into believing–"

"Fooled? Is that what you're going to call it?!"

"What else can this ridiculous feeling be other than trickery?!"

"How about _**love**_, Madara?!" Hashirama was practically yelling at him now, fed up with his attitude, and ignored the man's face paling at the mention of the word. "Is that _so _hard to understand?! How else could you get so angry at this if you didn't actually feel anything for me? Why is this so difficult for you to accept?" He wiped the blood off his face now, as his nose had stopped bleeding but still hurt a little. Nothing broken, luckily. Madara clenched his jaw, seeming adamant in his denial. Hashirama took a step towards him, and he backed away.

"Don't–" Madara's protest was ignored as Hashirama grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

"Why did you get so angry?" he asked, not letting go of him. Madara had no answer for him. No answer but one, and they both knew he didn't want to say it. So he refused to talk, glaring at him with that stubborn look. Hashirama scowled at his lack of an answer, even though it had been expected. "Why did you care so much I was getting married?"

"I didn't." Madara snapped, though obviously a lie, as he was the one avoiding eye-contact for once. "Go ahead, get married. It'll be a load off my back. Maybe you'll stop spouting your nonsense about love, then."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Hashirama muttered, his look softening as he brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of Madara's face, who met his eyes for just a moment. The frustration within them was clear, but there was also doubt. Well, at least that was _something_. "Madara, I've wanted to be with you for as long as I can remember. Maybe I didn't realize it at the time, but I've always wanted you." The man stared at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"You're insane." Hashirama smiled affectionately, lifting a hand to caress his cheek.

"I'm in love." he corrected gently. Madara's guts twisted and again, that feeling resurfaced. Like when they'd been sitting under the wisteria tree together, enjoying the silence, a certain warmth washed over him, blooming inside of his chest as it spread through his entire body. It was like he was melting from the inside out, and his hands – which had been twitching to hurt the man in front of him before – were now begging to caress that man's skin, his arms pleading to wrap themselves around the other's body, his chest yearning to be pressed against him, his lips longing to meet the softness of other ones, and his tongue wanting to steal another taste of him. Madara shook all of those urges away, smothering them as he forced the anger which had been slowly sinking away to rise again.

"If that's what love does to people, then I don't want it." the Uchiha then bit back, slapping the hand away. Hashirama sighed.

"Alright. If after the festival, you can look me in the eyes and say you feel nothing for me, then I'll leave you alone, and I'll marry Mito." Madara's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sudden proposition. Hashirama leaned in closer. Madara's chest tightened at the close proximity and breathing got more difficult when Hashirama brushed his fingers through his raven locks. "If you can honestly tell me these moments are meaningless to you, I'll give up."

"Is that a promise?" Madara asked slowly, and Hashirama nodded with reluctance. "Fine, I'll agree to that."

"You seem confident." Hashirama noted, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down Madara's spine. "Are you sure you'd be able to accept me marrying to Mito?"

"Yes, I would." Madara growled at him, trying to ignore the hand which was tracing lines on his back, inching lower and lower– "Don't get so full of yourself. You're not irreplaceable."

"Is that so?" Hashirama murmured, leaning in closer. The hand on his back stopped, pulling Madara closer as their chests were pressed together now, and he placed a chaste kiss on Madara's lips, pulling back for a moment, but he didn't need to – he'd already won him over. The warm feeling in Madara's chest exploded into something more intense as he answered the other's kiss hungrily, his tongue slipping through Hashirama's lips, tasting sweetness. Their tongues fought for dominance as they rubbed against each other, Madara moaning softly, prompting Hashirama to wrap both arms around his lower back. Madara didn't quite enjoy that, and before they knew it they'd already tripped and were rolling over the grass. With a grunt, his fingers pulling Hashirama's hair as the other's fingers dug into his back, Madara came out on top, straddling Hashirama's hips.

Hashirama let out a deep groan at the contact, both aroused as Madara took a moment to catch his breath and stare down at Hashirama's half-naked form. Small beads of sweat from the previous intense sparring session were rolling over the tanned, well-toned chest and the muscles of his abdomen. His dark hair was sticking to his skin, his eyes glazed over in lust and his moist lips slightly parted as he panted. Madara tore his eyes away from the far too tempting scene, opting to lean down and attack his neck with kisses instead. Hashirama's arms wrapped themselves around Madara's back again as he hissed when the Uchiha bit his skin, then sucked it gently.

"Mm, don't– people will see–" Madara ignored him, tongue flicking over the small spot he'd latched onto and drawing another moan from the man lying under him while his hands explored the tanned skin. "_Madara," _Hashirama uttered when he didn't stop, one hand gripping the hair on the back of his head and making the man finally let go. Madara smirked as he saw it had been enough and Hashirama glared half-heartedly at him, not looking forward to having to explain the hickey.

"Consider it payback." Madara mused, leaning down once again. "If I see that woman touch you again until after the festival, I'll kill her." he whispered. Hashirama then recognized that Madara had, in essence, marked him as his property, and couldn't tell whether it all was a real threat, but from the dangerous glinting in his eyes, he decided not to take his chances with this one.

"It won't happen again." Hashirama replied reassuringly, grabbing the back of Madara's neck to pull him down for another heated kiss. He slowly sat upright while Madara sucked on his lower lip, pressing the two against each other again. Madara pulled back for a moment, shifting his hips to sit better, inadvertently causing their groins to rub against each other. "_Oh god_," Hashirama moaned, as Madara closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, a shock of pleasure shooting through both of them. Hashirama moved his hips upwards this time, repeating the contact and both of their throbbing erections were almost like complete torture.

Hashirama vaguely realized that if they didn't stop soon, it might get out of hand, and with a final kiss, he pulled back, stopping all movements and Madara got the hint. They both sat for a few seconds, letting the daze of pleasure slowly fade away as they stared into each other's eyes and panted, both of their hearts still racing. Madara got up, taking his distance, as did Hashirama. The latter grinned.

"So, all of that means nothing to you?" he questioned nonchalantly, and Madara shot him a furious glare.

"Good luck explaining_ that_ to your soon-to-be-wife." he sneered in response, gesturing to the bruise on Hashirama's neck. The Senju scowled, rubbing the spot as Madara smirked, picking up Hashirama's discarded shirt and throwing it to him. "Just a few more days, Senju. You'd better enjoy it while it lasts." With that, he turned his back on him and left, leaving Hashirama to wonder whether that deal had been such a good idea after all.

* * *

**Turns out I have the yaoi-feels after spending four days in Berlin (don't ask me why, I don't know either) and I can't leave this damn story alone. Hence the juicy bit at the end. Hell, I felt naughty just by writing it.**

**Can't imagine what the festival chapter is going to be like.**

**Which is only like, the very next chapter. I've actually already written half of it, since it's going to be a long chapter. And also posted very soon.**

**Kind of a milestone in the story, really. Not so sure if I should post the explicit scene, seeing as how this site is really iffy with the M-rated thing.**

******Maybe, let me know in the reviews?**

**God, I'm _so _spoiling you guys with all of these lemons all of a sudden.**

**And, you know, thanks to all of you amazing people who reviewed last time! I hope the last part of this one made up for all the angst in the past few chapters :P**

**See ya soon!**


	19. Fireworks

**Yes, don't worry, you get your full lemon in this chapter. So a warning to anyone who doesn't like that: there's an explicit scene in this chapter. So. Yeah. I guess this story is M-rated now. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Fireworks**

The thick locks of hair flowed to her back, slender fingers deftly pulling out its restraints until it all fell down, a curtain of red framing her face while she sat in front of the vanity in complete silence, the apprehension on her face reflected in the mirror's smooth surface while the teeth of a long comb brushed through her hair. The faintest glows of a setting sun invaded their room while Chizuru admired the softness of the strands of hair she held in her hand as she brushed them, watching the scarlet locks glow with an orange hue in the fading light.

Mito let her be, not minding the contact as she gazed at her face in the mirror, wondering what it was about her that had made her stand out from the others; why _she _had been chosen as a bride and not someone else. While she was indeed very skilled as a kunoichi, this had been nothing more than a bonus – hardly the main factor in the decision of the clan. The fair skinned lady in the mirror blinked, long, thick eyelashes hovering above two dots of ocean blue hiding depths of anxiety and a craving for freedom. Those watchful eyes were like unbreakable windows; her soul staring through them longingly, and yet nothing could be done. Caged, perhaps. The lady in the mirror didn't look happy, nor did she look unhappy. She was simply there, silent, existing, observing, and nothing more than that. Her pink lips were usually in a thin line, as if a lock to hide away the words hanging on her tongue which were so desperately trying to get out.

Mito was disturbed when she saw something missing. The usual placid look in the lady's eyes was gone. No more acceptance for her situation. Something had changed. A certain rebelliousness had resurfaced, and it had been so long since she'd felt the need for defiance that she'd almost forgotten what it had felt like. Hashirama had asked her what she'd wanted. Not what was best for the clan, nor what was the best course of action to take, but what _her _desires were. He didn't care for conventionalism, he didn't care for traditions – he'd discarded them all, and all for love, whether it be love for another or the acknowledgment of his own needs. Mito couldn't fathom how someone could grow up like that. Hadn't he been raised with strict discipline? Hadn't he been taught that the needs of the many always came before the needs of the few?

It made her envious – she, who had always been taught to remain docile and to do what your elders told you to, to do what was expected of you; your duty to your clan. Yet now the core of all that discipline drilled into her was shaking, cracking, bursting and falling apart piece by piece. If someone like _him_, who had so many people expecting utter perfection from him, could do something like that, throwing all caution into the wind all for another, all for that man, why couldn't she? Why shouldn't she be allowed to find her own happiness?

Chizuru lightly tugged at her hair, glancing at the reflection in the mirror as she pulled the locks of red up in a single bun instead of the two buns Mito usually styled it in. She was already fully dressed in a thick, elegant purple kimono, having wide sleeves with a yellow bird print on it and a wide, similarly yellow obi around her waist, and a yellow scarf hanging casually over her arms. Her curly hair had been tamed into two intricate braids hanging over her shoulders, a few neat bangs allowed to cover her forehead. Her lips were colored red with an unnatural blush on her cheeks and thick, black lines drawn around her eyes, making them look more pleasing than they actually were.

Mito wanted none of that complexity, despite Chizuru's protests. She wore a simple, green kimono, she desired no lines around her eyes nor the blush deceiving the eye to making her pale cheeks seem to have color. The most her friend had managed to coax her into was to at least color her lips red, but that was as far as Mito was willing to go before putting her foot down when Chizuru started pulling out hair accessories heavier than her head could carry. Such things looked far better on Chizuru than they did on her. Mito always found herself looking far too awkward dressed in such extravagant manners. It drew attention, and she'd prefer to stay in the background if it was allowed – which it was rarely as it was, no need to make the odds even more impossible by dressing up like a princess. Not that she looked down on such things, no, she thought Chizuru looked beautiful in her outfit – but the girl had always been naturally eye-catching.

Just not tame enough.

Mito almost wanted to bite her lip when she remembered she was wearing lipstick.

"There, all done!" Chizuru said with a wide smile. Mito gave herself another look-over as she stood up from the chair, fingers briefly touching the soft fabric of her kimono. It was like she was staring at a different lady, now. It was disquieting, but perhaps, change would prove to be better in the long run.

There were three soft knocks on their door. At their silence, it slid open, Goro standing in the doorway, despite his short height looking stately as ever. Mito avoided his gaze. She could already guess the reason he was here.

"I see you're ready for the festivities." he said with a pleased look and Chizuru nodded. Mito stayed silent. "Good. Chizuru, why don't you go on ahead? There's something I must discuss with Mito." Her friend shot her a questioning look. Mito smiled meekly, and Chizuru nodded again, though more hesitant than the first time, as she took her leave, sliding the door shut behind her – though Mito would bet on it she was eavesdropping. She sat back down on the chair, stiffening when feeling Goro's kind gaze turning sharp. They hadn't spoken of what had happened with the marriage arrangements, as Mito had been expertly avoiding him ever since that day five nights ago. Now, he had her cornered.

"Is there something the matter, uncle?" she asked timidly, her fingers intertwined as her hands rested on her lap.

"Yes. I'd like to hear what you and the lord Senju spoke of after my leave during _that _time – and from the way you've been hiding from me I gather I won't think it to be very pleasant news." Goro answered with a stern look, and Mito gazed down at her hands with a slight frown.

"He asked me what I wanted." she replied reluctantly. Her uncle gave her an expectant look and she thought about it while Hashirama's words rang through her head.

"_Act a little rebellious, if you at all care for your reputation…" _

"I told him I'd personally rather not marry him."

Chizuru's gasp was audible through the door and Goro's jaw dropped in complete shock. Mito gulped inaudibly, taking a deep, silent breath. She'd said it and there was no turning back now.

"Why would you–"

"Because I don't love him." She didn't think, she acted. For once, she didn't think. Truth was simple and beautiful and calming like that – it didn't require thought, only acknowledgment.

There was a long silence as the words hung in the air, weighing down on her and yet relieving her at the same time. She met Goro's incredulous look head on, not regretting a thing she'd said. It was about time she took her own feelings into consideration. They'd expected her to throw her whole life away, and while Hashirama was a kind man, and she might've been content with him, she'd never find true happiness like this. Goro pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes shut as he sighed.

"Chizuru, leave." he called. There was a pause, as then footsteps indicated the girl had finally left. Goro gazed down at Mito as if he were seeing her for the first time, and what he saw seemed to disappoint him. A young girl, pushed to her limits; silent defiance, determined grace. He had a sour look on his face and folded his arms across his chest. "There was a more important reason for you two to marry than what we've told you." Mito frowned slightly at his weary tone, sitting more upright as she listened. "Understand that this is classified information."

"Of course." Mito said with a nod, and he continued.

"I'm sure you are aware by now of the various threats to our village. Before we left on our journey to Konoha, I received some troubling news. It seems some of our enemies are planning another attack." Mito's eyes widened, and understood in just a precious few seconds what was meant with that statement.

It was a well-known fact that their country had often been the targets of invasions and attacks, because of their extensive and expert knowledge and mastery of Fūinjutsu. They were seen as a large threat, and rightfully so, but it was so tiring at times. It was the reason why she'd been raised with such discipline – negotiations with enemies were plentiful, and they were to be composed and even-tempered at all times. Mito had attended numerous negotiations in the past, had taken part in quite a number of them, so she understood the need of putting your personal feelings aside. She could only assume that the enemy attack being planned was too large of a force for their village to handle. With this marriage, the elders of the clan must've been hoping to assert the alliance between the Senju and the Uzumaki and thus make sure they'd have allies to rely on.

"A marriage isn't needed for us to acquire their assistance – they're good people, Hashirama is a good man–"

"We _cannot _rely on the goodwill of others, Mito, and you know this." Goro told her off impatiently, as if scolding a child. She was growing tired.

"Then you would have me throw my life away just for some additional reassurance?" Her words were soft, but they cut through the air like the blade of a flawless katana, Goro flustered for a second time that day at her sudden back talk. A blade refusing to bend.

"This isn't just _additional_ – and how can you say that? Everything we ask of you–"

"–Is for the clan." Mito finished his sentence, a cold anger she didn't know she'd possessed before bursting open from the cage she'd sealed it in ever since her rebellious teenage years had come to an end, and now it was back with a vengeance – wanting, demanding. The fury in her eyes was enough to render Goro completely dumbstruck, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his niece fuming like this. But Mito didn't care; in fact, she thought she even enjoyed it somewhat. The silent rage boiling in her veins made her feel alive again, as if she'd woken up from a long, deep slumber, washing away her idle dreams of a normal life and future, wherein she was merely _comfortable_. She wanted something better; something more meaningful than being a trophy wife, a mother simply _content _with her life, her husband, her children – it almost frightened her to think that's what they had in mind for her. A gilded cage. She broke its bars down.

"Then why must you make things so difficult?!" Goro demanded to know, still seeming a little bewildered by the sudden change in her attitude. Mito felt sorry, and guilty, for putting it all on him, but she had no other choice. "I have talked to the Senju clan elders, and they won't budge until–"

"_They _are not in charge of the clan. Hashirama is." Mito interrupted him again, scowling deeply at him. His eyes flitted over her form, trying to find a hint of hesitation, something to latch onto and it almost seemed that the diplomatic but unyielding attitude he'd taught her when dealing with enemies had turned itself on him.

"You think he will just do as he pleases?" He was becoming desperate, and she remained merciless.

"I see you don't know him very well, uncle." The icy undertones in her voice faded and she assumed a more relaxed posture, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned back into her seat. "Hashirama is not the kind of man you can order around. Yes, he _will _do as he pleases, and I'm sure he'll be pleased to honor our alliance.

"I've been considerate of all of your wishes, haven't I? I've done what you've asked me to time and time again, but I can't let you govern my entire life. I understand you only want what's best for me, but first and foremost, you want what's best for the clan. You believed these two things coincided. They do not. You thought I would willingly give up my happiness for such a trivial thing as ink written on paper. You were naïve. I'm sorry, uncle." She bowed her head slightly, turning away from the completely befuddled expression on his face as she slowly stood up, walking towards the door and right past her uncle who seemed frozen on the spot.

"Mito…." He was at a loss for words. She slowly slid the door open with a hand as she glanced over her shoulder to the perplexed bald man.

"Rest assured, I shall see to it we get our aid from our allies. But for now, I think I will enjoy the festival." Two footsteps and she stood outside, closing the door shut behind her as she let out a deep sigh – with it, the anxiety she'd been bottling up for a while now.

A step closer to freedom.

* * *

In the center of the village, all were in a joyous mood as the town's inhabitants were setting up their little stands, some lined with food, others with little trinkets you could buy or works of art. It was noon, the sun glowing brightly in the sky and luck would have it that it did not rain that day. There was still a chilly wind brushing through Konoha, but this was nothing but a minor annoyance and easily ignored, especially when one was warmed up by drinking some alcohol. Tobirama wandered the streets with Sasuke and Tōka in tow, admiring the little stands they passed by and numerous different scents of food being baked or grilled filled the air, as well as a mixture of perfumes and other aromas.

The Uzumaki were at the center of attention, as such festivities had been thrown in their at honor after all, and they were treated with great hospitality by the locals. Though at first a little reluctant, even the Uchiha had blended in well, and all that would matter that day was not your last name nor where you'd been born, but that you were a part of the village. Had Tobirama not seen it, he wouldn't have believed it possible. Sasuke was less impressed, but then again, he wasn't impressed with much of anything and often breezed through life with a leisure indifference. Tōka was satisfied, but alert, in case some people decided to hit the bars too soon and look for trouble. Sasuke, of course, was immediately on the look-out for attractive ladies as he asked Tobirama if he had some clever pick-up lines.

"Just act natural." Tobirama replied to this, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at Sasuke's then incredulous look.

"I don't think being a disagreeable jackass is going to score me points, you know." the Sarutobi replied wryly and Tōka snorted a laugh, in agreement with that statement.

"As long as you don't mention the weather, you'll be fine."

"Then what do I talk about?"

"I don't know – her hair?"

"Here I thought you were supposed to be a genius." Sasuke scoffed, narrowly avoiding a hyperactive kid who came rushing through as he chased after his ball.

"I've never needed the disgracefully generic pick-up lines you speak of. I just say hello and it goes from there." Tobirama said a little smugly, making Tōka curious and want to test this statement.

"Alright then, smooth talker. Go say hello to that girl over there, and if you get her to smile, I'll buy you a drink." she said, gesturing to a gorgeous woman with long, black hair. Tobirama blinked when seeing who the woman was standing with.

"But she's an _Uchiha_!" She raised her eyebrows, and he was reverted to his stubborn ten year old self who, instead of believing girls had the cooties, had cleverly determined it was, in fact, the Uchiha who held possession over these non-existent cooties which had the strange ability to make you spontaneously combust if you were around too many of them. Of course he knew by now that was nonsense.

Then again, one needed a healthy dose of nonsense in their lives every now and then.

"Are you backing down?" Sasuke pestered him, and Tobirama glared with narrowed eyes.

"Fine, but I'll… you know, wait until she's alone. I don't feel like being mutilated by someone's angry older brother today."

"Speaking of angry older brothers…." Tōka murmured, pointing casually to a man with an annoyed frown on his face which was pulled into a stern expression striding through the crowd which parted to let him through in perfect unity. Tobirama turned to look–

"Whatever happened, it wasn't me!"

Hashirama came to a halt a few feet away and stared at him, possibly contemplating the reason as to why his brother was behaving like a particularly moronic child, and decided it was a mystery never to be unveiled to him – accepting the fact that he'd probably never change.

"It concerns me that that's your gut-reaction when seeing someone irritated, Tobirama." Sasuke snickered and Tōka pursed her lips in an attempt to hold back a smirk.

"Well, er, you didn't look to happy." the silver-haired man replied. "And you were storming this way. I just took the liberty to assume the almost-obvious."

"I wasn't _storming _your way, I was walking. But yes, we need to talk."

"…Am I in trouble, daddy?"

"I'm not in the mood for semi-amusing jokes today, Tobirama."

"That's too– …wait, _semi-amusing?"_

"Hold on, he still needs to finish his bet!" Sasuke interrupted, not-so-subtly pointing at the Uchiha lady who was now standing at a dango stand alone, her index finger thoughtfully pressed to her chin. Tōka irritably smacked the Sarutobi's hand away to make him stop pointing as that was rather distasteful, and Hashirama raised his eyebrows mildly, studying the woman for a moment.

"…You want to seduce Madara's cousin?"

"_What?!" _

"WHAT?!"

"That is _hilarious_."

Hashirama kept a perfectly stoic face. "You didn't know?" A smile slipped through for a moment, before he turned to look away with mild disinterest as his brother gazed at him as if he'd just revealed to the world that he was actually a hermaphrodite. "Yes, that is his cousin. I've seen her a few times before. I believe, back in the day, she was one of the… three or four women on the battlefield."

"How didn't I remember?" Tobirama mused, rubbing the back of his head as he stared at the woman.

"You are pretty horrible with faces. Surprises me, really. I always thought you had the better memory out of the two of us."

"How_ fortunate_ I am with such a sympathetic brother." Hashirama merely smiled and said nothing more, his eyes looking over the crowd of people who'd gone out on this day to celebrate either their own youth or the alcohol which was being passed around a little too casually.

He reminisced briefly of the festivals when he'd been younger, which had always been thrown at night. Until he'd turned fifteen he hadn't been allowed to attend, though he'd always sneak up to the roof of his house while his brother lay sleeping and his father was out drinking and his mother was reading a book, staying at home to keep an eye on them. He'd sit on the rooftops, sometimes slippery from the rain, other times dry as the splinters of wood buried themselves uncomfortably in the palms of his hands, and he'd never miss the fireworks. In the vast blackness of the sky their light came bursting through, announced by a thunderous noise as they burst into a hundred different sparks, their radiance ephemerally touching on his face before each and every one faded away with a last sizzling of sound.

Fleetingly beautiful, perhaps in the same manner how fleeting human lives were, but distinct in the depressing way that only one in a million lived their lives to the fullest, and not every life was beautiful. He wanted to reach that point, that enormous glow of captivating radiance before all life slipped through his fingers, and the light disappeared and he was swallowed away like the sparks of fireworks vanishing into the night. If he'd tell this to anyone around him, he already knew they'd respond that he'd already reached that point. To them, maybe, he was glowing – because of his accomplishments, whether they be gruesome or benevolent, whether they came from war or peace – but it was all too irrelevant in his eyes.

It was not praise nor recognition, but a _feeling_ he wanted, nothing more than euphoria shining through the pain of memories; to destroy the past with fireworks.

His gaze froze, recognizing the all too familiar hair his hands itched to caress, his brother and friends chattering on meaninglessly beside him while his eyes were fixated on their goal. He moved, ignoring Tobirama's question as to where he was headed. It was strange, Hashirama realized, how for these people surrounding him on a daily basis he'd put his life in danger countless times, yet when it came down to it, they were overpowered so easily by the presence of one man and one man only.

He looked indifferent, maybe with a tinge of annoyance, walking at a leisurely pace yet keeping such a distance from the people around him as if they weren't even there – or most likely, as if they didn't matter, which to him, they most likely didn't.

Hashirama glanced at his brother who trying to get out from under the unfortunate bet he'd made, and he decided to be kind – though mostly because he really did need to speak to him – and take him away.

"I'm borrowing him for a moment." He grabbed Tobirama by the arm and started pulling him away rather unceremoniously, when Sasuke's eyes darted down to his neck. Hashirama held back a curse.

"What's–"

'_Well, I guess h__igh collar shirts are completely _useless._'_

"–_that_? Wow. I really… wow. I did not expect that from Mito." Now both Tobirama and Tōka, of course, had noticed the slight bruising on his neck. Hashirama sighed, and glared at his younger brother who blinked.

"What?" It took Tobirama a second or two before piecing the puzzle together. "_Ah." _And then he smirked. Of course _he _hadn't been spying on them when they'd been at the training grounds, though he had coerced Tōka into meddling just a little. Though he had expected Madara to "mark" him like that. Tōka rolled her eyes at the private conversation going on, and then Hashirama turned to look at her.

"I didn't tell him, he figured it out on his own." she quickly said, raising her hands with a frown. Sasuke looked from one to the other, utterly confused. Not that anyone could blame him.

"This really is your fault. I hate high collar shirts." Hashirama muttered, rubbing the bruise with a mild scowl.

"To be fair, it was only… _indirectly _my fault. Sort of. Even that's stretching it. Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it." Tobirama sneered. "In fact, I'd say you owe me. "

"…Wait, _what_?" Sasuke spoke up, utterly perplexed by the situation as he looked at Hashirama for clarification.

"Hmm?"

"Tobirama gave you a hickey?"

Tōka burst out into silent laughter as she pressed her palm over her mouth, while Hashirama simply stared with an expression somewhere between blank and bemused and Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing the urge to sock his short friend in the face with a well-deserved fist. A few people around them turned to give them stares.

"He's just drunk, don't mind him." Tobirama quickly amended at the weird looks he was getting, slapping Sasuke on the shoulder with probably a _lot _more force than was necessary, almost making the man trip. "Isn't that right?"

"Y-yeah…." Sasuke confirmed, glowering up at the silver haired man, rubbing his shoulder as he did so. "Sheesh, a simple '_no' _would've sufficed."

"In any case, this conversation isn't over yet." Hashirama told his brother with a stern look, who sighed exasperatedly.

"You know, I should get some sort of medal here." Tobirama in turn replied, clearly getting annoyed. "I don't see anyone else helping you with your hopeless love life."

"I don't recall ever _asking _for your help." the elder answered sharply, not putting up with Tobirama sticking his nose in business it didn't belong. Tōka's shoulders tensed slightly, not really having expected that reaction. Tobirama was equally surprised and irritated; they'd used to always trust in each other more than they did anyone else. This sudden shift in relationship was frustrating, to say the least.

"Fine, whatever. I'm getting a drink." he huffed, promptly turning his back and walking away, Sasuke following him with a frown of his own and asking him what his problem was all of a sudden. Tōka gave Hashirama sideways glance with a hint of disapproval on her face, not understanding why he was being so secretive all of a sudden. Was it that sensitive of an issue?

"That was unnecessary, you know." she mused quietly, Hashirama's eyes focused elsewhere. She didn't bother looking to know what, or rather, _who_ they were fixated on. "He was just concerned–"

"That's enough." She instantly shut her mouth when he used _that _tone on her, her posture stiffening into a rigid stance. "This is something between me and _him_. Even if my brother has good intentions, he'll cause more harm than good in the long run." Tōka stayed silent for a moment, observing her leader. He'd changed. It was a gradual shift, unnoticeable to most, but crystal clear to one who'd known him ever since they'd been children, playing tag near the breezy shore of a quiet sea embraced by the sunset glow.

It was only now, when all opportunities had died long ago, that she realized how under-appreciated simplicity was in life. The cheerful little boy from all those years ago, albeit still a tad naïve and infuriatingly stubborn about his impossible ideals, had been crushed. War had chipped away at his childish fantasies and broken them under its far too heavy weight – and even now this continued. She was starting to doubt whether this affair he'd woven himself into was such a good idea after all. Perhaps it would make him happy, but she had her concerns on how healthy it was for him, emotionally.

Regardless, betray his trust she would never.

"Have fun tonight, Hashirama." She did not mean anything by it, and he didn't think so either, but as she cast a knowing smile his way and walked off he couldn't help but think she'd mocked him somehow. Either way, with her departure, it seemed the villagers around him were more comfortable approaching him now. He couldn't blame them; Tōka didn't look all that approachable.

The first group to greet him were a few men – he distinctly recognized two Hyuuga he'd met and talked to before and an Akimichi he saw every now and then, though the three others didn't seem to belong to any specific clan he could recall – who invited him for drinks. His eyes searched off the crowd again for a moment before he responded. The speck of black was gone. So he smiled, and allowed them to drag him off to a bar.

He wasn't all that fond of alcohol, but for the first time in years, ceasing all rational thoughts and simply existing in a drunken stupor sounded… _somewhat_ appealing.

The people already seated in the bar turned to look when they entered, the Akimichi standing on his left asking about the many rumors surrounding his powers. Hashirama sat down at the bar, not interested in sitting at a table in the middle of a crowd. A jovial drunk he happened to sit down next to him heard him tell a story from the time he'd faced down a platoon of shinobi from the Land of Water, and so the drunk started asking questions of his own; some relating to him, others to the many enemies he faced in the past. Hashirama was rather amused with answering them as he sipped from his drink.

"No, as far as I'm aware, I can't grow flowers out of my ears."

"I don't believe I've ever seen Madara sacrifice a goat to a demonic spirit, let alone dance while he did it."

"If I had two heads, I would know. Maybe you should lie down."

Before soon the atmosphere in the before relatively calm bar had turned into a rambunctious mess of laughter and mirth. Most, if not all, attention was directed towards him. For once, it wasn't tiring. The people in the bar with him did not bury him under trite compliments which were nearly always out of courtesy and not sincerity. His thoughts inevitably wandered off to the absence in the room, the one spot that could never be filled by anyone else but Madara, the man who'd probably ripped out "courtesy" out of his vocabulary and had obliterated the word altogether.

He was anticipating it, but he couldn't allow himself to even _think _of it for the fear of losing his patience, but even the happy chatter of the drunk next to him was starting to grow stale and he was losing interest, when, as if she'd heard his thoughts, Mito walked in. Hashirama turned his head to look at her and she met his eyes with a smile. He could immediately tell something had changed in her. She seemed happier now, more relaxed and approachable, as if a huge weight had fallen off her shoulders. The drunk stumbled off his seat as he was dragged off by his friends, Mito taking his place next to Hashirama.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him, not a hint of uneasiness despite what had happened last time the two of them had been alone. Hashirama returned her greeting in a more mellow tone and ordered another cup of sake. "You seem surprised?" she questioned when noting the mildly puzzled look on his face.

"I admit, I did not expect to see you wander into a place like this on your own." Mito was the only woman seated at the bar, not to mention that amidst the warm colors of the room her green dress stood out against the furniture. She rested her elbow on the old surface of the bar, leaning her chin into her hand.

"Neither did I, but I suppose I decided to enjoy myself for today." she mused after requesting for a glass of water from the bartender, who handed it to her within a few short seconds, turning away to help other customers. Mito twisted the small cup around gently, staring at the light shining dimly through a nearby window breaking through the water and the glass. Hashirama glanced at the almost golden glow it gave off, before she raised it to her lips and took a sip.

"About Friday…." She looked up at him with an amused twinkling in her eyes, and he almost felt bad for bringing it up, looking back down at the glass, a small rim of it stained with red lipstick.

"You don't owe me an explanation." Mito told him mindfully, her finger idly tracing the edge of her cup. He held back a smile.

"I wasn't planning on giving you one." She chuckled, twisting in her seat so her body was facing him.

"But if you could indulge me in answering just one question, I'd be grateful." As he studied her _too _innocent smile, he nodded slowly. She leaned a slight bit towards him now, her voice lowering tactfully as she asked whatever was on her mind. "Did you and the lord Uchiha manage to… _resolve _your quarrel?" His lips pulled in a thin, stoic line and he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Lady Mito, perhaps I should remind you of the cat which found its untimely death by curiosity?" She blinked, looking a little startled at this cold reply.

"Oh, I did not mean to imply– but I would never… I mean, if, er, such a thing ever took place, I certainly wouldn't– um…." He considered her awkward reaction for a moment as she looked for the words to excuse her behavior with a light blush on her face, and then sighed.

"It's fine, I suppose. I trust you." She leaned back, seeming to be a little lost with the situation. "My apologies. I'm slightly on edge at the moment." he said, staring into his sake cup which had went untouched the entire time. He didn't particularly feel like drinking any longer either.

"Might I ask why?" Mito responded quietly, carefully readjusting her kimono so she could sit more comfortably. He wondered how to word it.

"I'm waiting for the fireworks."

She seemed completely mystified, and he chuckled softly to himself.

"That was… a joke?"

"Yes and no." Hashirama replied, picking up his cup but not taking a sip yet, as if he were still debating on it when he really just wanted to keep his hands busy with something. He wasn't nervous; he was just too eager. Everything he was going to do the entire day up until _that _point was going to be completely forgotten – and in light of that knowledge, it almost seemed like he was wasting his time. _Almost_. Mito, at least, was making it bearable to wait.

"You take enjoyment out of bemusing me, don't you?"

"_What_?" Hashirama's eyes had widened slightly, staring down at her with his eyebrows furrowed and Mito flustered by this sudden reaction. She stayed silent as she wasn't sure what to say. "Ah, sorry." He could've sworn….

"Is something the matter?" she asked with slight concern, and he shook his head.

"No. It's simply, a friend of mine, he said the exact same thing you just did."

Well, now it seemed that Mito was making it _worse_.

"Oh," Mito turned to stare down at her glass and there was a slightly uncomfortable silence. He felt a little guilty for saddling her up with his problems, and turned to look at her again, mouth half-open to say something, when a flash of black striding past the window outside caught his immediate attention. The door to the bar then opened, most people in the room tactful enough to keep talking and not gaze at who'd just entered. Hashirama downed the entire cup of sake in one go. His footsteps, though distinctly soft, were the loudest noise in the room as they drew only closer. Even the sake burning down his throat had become nothing but the faintest sensation; barely worth noticing at all.

"I see you are enjoying yourselves." His heart seemed to freeze altogether when he heard the words being spoken from his left. It only lasted for a split-second before he turned to look. Madara wasn't looking at him, impatiently gesturing for the bartender to come over and take his order. "Lady Mito, I'm surprised to see you aren't followed around by that other girl this time around." he stated coolly, then offhandedly ordering the bartender to get him the strongest drink in the house.

"You could at least _pretend _to be polite." Hashirama intervened, Mito frowning lightly at the remark.

"Indeed, I did not intend to ruin their little day of celebration. I am so _sorry _if I've offended you."

"Rest assured, my lord. No words of yours could ever cause me harm." Hashirama was, rather uncomfortably, stuck right in the middle of the two as Mito replied back this time, scowling as she drank up whatever water was left in her cup while Madara shot a cold glare her way.

Hashirama was half-expecting him to start sneering that her dress was ugly.

Then a few cheering noises drew their attention, coming from the far end of the other side of the bar. Mito, sitting the furthest away near the window, had to lean back to see what the fuss was about while Hashirama leaned forward.

"Tch, a drinking competition." Madara turned away in disinterest, grabbing the drink the bartender had served him and taking a sip.

"Are those beneath your mighty pedestal?" Mito remarked in a completely civil tone. The two of them seemed completely fed up with each other at this point, but Hashirama wasn't willing to be put in the cross fire for whatever petty squabbles the two had.

"Were you planning to challenge me for one?"

"What if I were?"

"How unsightly." Madara mocked her, looking away as she scowled. "Surely even _you_ would know it is unbecoming of a woman to take part into such activities."

"I find it very narrow-minded of you to believe all women would adhere to the same rules."

Now the atmosphere was starting to turn downright hostile.

"Fine then, Madara, what do you say you and I have a go at it?" Hashirama interrupted the two of them, slightly annoyed though maintaining a light-hearted tone. The Uchiha beside him stared for a while, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a taunting smirk. This had, of course, drawn the attention of people sitting nearby, as if they hadn't been eavesdropping the entire time. Outside the sun had already started to go down, leaving behind an array of warm colors, falling through the window and giving an orange glow to the room.

"I suppose I can't refuse such a challenge if it's from you." From the other match at the far end, the victor ran out through a backdoor, no doubt to vomit up all his food, while the loser was lying down completely knocked out on the floor. The bartender turned his attention to the two of them while the people around them started to whisper about who they were betting on. No one actually dared to cheer like they'd done with the other competition as the bartender served the drinks. Hashirama just hoped the both of them wouldn't be completely floored once this was over.

* * *

He couldn't see straight any more.

That was, generally, not a good sign. Hashirama's laughter rang through his ears like poison, the lights in the room were irritatingly bright, and he barely realized he'd lost their match by the time he'd downed his… how many cups had he managed to drink? At some point, between feeling a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and the chattering from the other annoying nuisances called _human-beings-who-were-not-Hashirama_, he'd completely lost count and had stopped caring. He was still half-seated on the bar stool, one moron or another declaring he wasn't all that bad of a guy and Mito chuckling at his glazed over expression – oh how he wished she'd just fall into a pit and die.

"Madara," He shuddered involuntarily at the voice uttering his name so close to his ear, the arm still hanging onto his shoulders. "Come now, you don't want to miss the fireworks, do you?" He rolled his eyes, allowing the man to drag him off his seat.

"I don't see what's so special about wasting perfectly good explosives for entertainment." he grumbled, though he was really just annoyed they didn't let him sit and chase away the dizziness first. The two of them nearly stumbled out of the bar, Mito the only one being completely sober as she walked beside them, Hashirama only slightly more clear-headed than Madara was.

"You know," Hashirama spoke as if he was about to reveal all the secrets of the universe to him, "life would treat you better if you stopped being such a massive prick."

"_That _has _nothing _to do with fireworks." Madara protested with a scowl. None of the trio knew even where they were headed, even if they were attracting quite some attention. Mito took the unlikely lead and the two drunks were fine following her – even Madara, as long as she didn't open her mouth, at least.

"It was a general remark." Hashirama pointed out, dropping the arm from Madara's shoulders, who immediately started missing the warmth but had done nothing to keep them there and did nothing to pull them back.

"And why is it that I need to get nicer? How about _you _get meaner. Maybe _I'm _not the problem here."

"But there is no problem?"

"Then what the hell did you say that for?"

"I was just giving some friendly advice."

"By calling me a_ prick_."

"Are you _denying _that you're a prick?" Madara narrowed his eyes.

"I don't like you when you're drunk. You're too chatty." Hashirama simply laughed at that as they continued to wander off, different faces greeting them as they slowly walked past – Hashirama discovering Madara was a ranting drunk and Madara discovering Hashirama was… just drunk. After a while they were starting to stray from the main path and Madara demanded to know where Mito thought she was going. She turned around with a grin.

"They're going to fire off the fireworks in a minute, so I thought it would be nicer if we could watch it from a more secluded area." For once, Madara didn't talk back and continued on, the voices of the villagers growing distant. He had no idea what time it even was and he supposed it didn't matter much either. He glanced at his right, to where his companion was walking, staring up at the star-filled sky and seeming to be completely carefree for once. Hashirama looked back when he noticed he was being stared at, and they gazed into each other's eyes for a few moments. Not thinking much of anything, not even feeling any kind of passion or need they'd otherwise felt. Nothing but complete serenity. It was surprisingly relaxing, being able to appreciate each other from up close without physical contact. It had its own charm to it.

The two men had barely noticed they'd walked into a meadow near the forest when Mito suddenly sat down on the cool grass, beneath the shade of the trees, staring at the two of them to join her as well. They hadn't realized how far they'd wandered off, in fact, as it seemed this meadow was completely abandoned otherwise. Hashirama sat down again in the middle, of course, though Madara didn't really care to make any snide remarks anymore. Besides, he was much too distracted by how damn _cold _the ground was.

"Look," Mito nearly whispered when the first bang sounded and a flash drew Madara's attention for a moment. He rolled his eyes, not caring much at all for the show of red and white lights coloring the sky, looking at Hashirama instead and only to find, to his annoyance, that his eyes were glued to the heaven. The irritation because of the lack of attention quickly slipped away, however, when he saw how the sparks and many colors of the fireworks reflected so beautifully in his dark eyes, lighting up his face with each different color that passed by above. He briefly glanced at Mito, then scowled when he saw that she'd been watching him watching Hashirama with an amused look. When he caught her, however, she quickly looked away, smiling awkwardly. After another minute, she stood up.

"Where to?" Hashirama asked once he'd noticed.

"I just realized I needed to tell something important to my cousin. You two, um, enjoy the show."

'…_Don't tell me this was her plan all along?'_

She walked past them, seemingly casually, but Madara caught the mischievous smile she had on her face. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, other than being generally aggravated that she was sticking her nose into _his_ business. When she was clear out of sight he turned his body back towards Hashirama to inform him that the Uzumaki woman was being too prying and he should tell her to mind her own business, when the Senju made it clear he did not want to hear any of that by kissing him the minute he'd turned, leaving him entirely frozen for just a moment.

Being not quite a hundred percent because of the alcohol, he caved in to what his body wanted and shifted, sitting closer while Hashirama's tongue licked his lower lip, putting an arm around him, kissing back eagerly. Hashirama forced him to lie down with his back on the grass. He wasn't quite comfortable with how cold it was, though with Hashirama leaning over him and his hands caressing his sides and hips he felt his body temperature starting to rise.

It was all a complete daze, the sounds of ongoing fireworks completely blocked out. Madara forced himself out of this state when he felt a hand slipping under his robes, shivering with a deep sigh and snatching Hashirama's wrist, who pulled back for a moment. Madara stared up at his eyes, and if he'd had any doubts on how much Hashirama wanted him, they were completely shattered with the intense look of yearning directed at him. Such heavy emotions made him uncomfortable, and when the man leaned down to stubbornly resume their kiss, he put a hand on his chest and held him back with a scowl.

"What are you planning on doing?" he hissed, but instead of Hashirama backing off like he'd expected him to, he narrowed his eyes, pushed the hand away, and pinned Madara's wrist to the ground, leaning down to kiss the pale skin of his neck and drawing a soft growl from him.

"What," Hashirama breathed softly against his neck, a dangerous edge to his voice, "does it _look _like?" He lightly pressed his body down on Madara, and even with such a small shift the friction between them was and felt incredible. Neither knew how this was going to end up, but Hashirama was too drunk to care and Madara was feeling too good to stop it. Neither of them had imagined it would be like this, but it had felt good in the moment and there was no more turning back. Madara's upper back and head was leaning against a tree behind him, Hashirama right between his legs while he kissed him, slowly releasing the wrist he'd had pinned down. Madara moaned softly when a hand slid over his inner thigh. He was starting to pant heavily, both hands grasping Hashirama's shoulders and digging their nails into him, pulling him down even closer.

"Nnh, under fireworks? How– ah… h…how _romantic_." Madara breathed, still managing a tone of sarcasm as Hashirama bit down on his neck.

"Only the best for you." Hashirama whispered back. Madara wished he could say those words didn't do anything to him, but he couldn't deny the warm feeling in his chest because of it.

Hashirama pulled at Madara's sash, pulling it loose and discarding it to the side, his far too hot, searing hot hands slipping under Madara's yukata to caress the skin of his abdomen, lowering his lips to his neck, down to his chest – and Madara passed the point of rational thoughts; the only thing left in him craving _more_, his hips lifting to grind against Hashirama's, eliciting a low groan from him that sounded like a sweet melody to his ears. Prompted by this, Madara nearly tore Hashirama's sash off and threw it near his own, sitting up a little straighter, grabbing a handful of Hashirama's thick hair and pulling him close to crush their lips together again.

One arm wrapped itself around Hashirama's waist, the other hand opening the man's yukata while they kissed. He hesitated briefly, considering what he was getting himself into, when Hashirama's thumb caressing the skin of his inner thigh drove him over the edge of doubt and his hand slid under the Senju's underwear, fingers curling over the thick erection. Hashirama pulled back from their kiss, gasping and shuddering at the feeling, his eyes closed shut tightly.

The expression of complete pleasure on Hashirama's face was mesmerizing, and Madara leaned back in, biting softly on Hashirama's lower lip while his hand slowly slid over his length, drawing constant moans which echoed so sweetly through Madara's head. Hashirama's one hand was now placed on the tree, leaning against it while he panted, sweat rolling off his forehead. The heat was unbearable, and he wanted release, but not quite like this.

"M… ah, _Madara,_" he whispered, voice heavy with lust, and the man's hand removed the shorts he was wearing, making it easier to stroke his erection. It took an immense mental strength, but he grabbed Madara's hand to make him stop, pulling it away. Madara seemed to understand what he wanted to do and glared at him as he pulled down Madara's shorts as well in their entirety, then leaning in to press their bodies together, their erections rubbing against each other making Madara desperately gasp for breath while Hashirama moaned even louder, not minding the nails that were drawing blood from the skin of his back.

"_Don't," _Madara groaned, eyes nearly rolling back in uncontrollable pleasure when Hashirama's hands grabbed his legs, pulling them up a little. "I can't–" Hashirama shushed him with a kiss. Madara couldn't think straight any more. He wanted to lash out and cringe away; it was too humiliating, and he didn't know how he could live with himself if it really happened like this, yet it felt so amazing that the other half of him wanted it just _too_ bad.

"I'll make it feel good." Hashirama hummed to him in a low voice. Madara gritted his teeth, turning his head to the side, his right cheek pressing on the soft grass as Hashirama spread his legs further.

"No, just… just do it." If it was pain, he could deal with it. It was the pleasure that frightened him the most. Hashirama frowned slightly at him. "_Do it_," he snarled aggressively. If it wasn't now, he knew he'd back out of it; the part of him disgusted with himself would take control and this would all be over. Hashirama leaned down, one hand releasing Madara's leg. Madara squeezed his eyes shut, arms wrapped firmly around Hashirama's neck. When Hashirama slowly pushed in with no preparation there came a searing hot pain that set his nerves on fire, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. He let out a sharp hiss, feeling the blood well up on the spots where his nails had been doing damage against Hashirama's back.

_"More_," he barely managed to get out when Hashirama had stopped pushing in for a moment, and this time didn't stop until his entire length was in, both of them panting at the completely foreign sensation. Madara's chest heaved unsteadily, his body trying to readjust to Hashirama, while Hashirama tried to control himself. The feeling of Madara around his cock was nearly enough to drive him right over the edge, the muscles tight around his erection nearly driving him insane with a need to just pound into him like an animal, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep perfectly still. Madara tried to get his breathing under control, carefully shifting his hips. The pain was scathing, but it was bearable.

Hashirama sucked in a deep breath when the man panting beneath him shifted, and he slowly moved his hips back, moving out and in again with a groan escaping between his teeth. Madara focused on breathing while Hashirama set the rhythm. The pain slowly subsided, but when Hashirama hit a certain spot, a little bundle of nerves, he could swear fireworks were set off inside of his body, jolts of pleasure roaring through him as a loud cry escaped his lips, his back arching at the incredible sensation. Hashirama had stilled again for a moment at the sudden reaction.

"Ah-again, that… that spot," Madara moaned heavily, moving his hips again to urge Hashirama to get going. He did so, hitting the nerves a second time, Madara's loud moans and the occasional whimper starting to get too much. He quickened his pace before he could help himself, Madara's cries egging him on as he slammed into his prostrate, not mindful any longer of how much pain he was causing – not that it mattered, since an intense bliss had overtaken Madara's body completely, and the pain that was there only added to it as he writhed beneath him. All thought had stopped completely as Madara moved his hips to match Hashirama's wild rhythm, craving more of the feeling that had overpowered his mind.

Hashirama couldn't even find the breath to cry out, only breathless moans hissing through his lips. He felt the heat building up inside of him, hotter, and more intense, demanding a release. Madara was right there on the edge with him, until his senses couldn't take it any more and with a gasp, back arching and toes curling, he climaxed. This drove Hashirama over the edge, Madara's muscles contracting around his cock in sudden spasms, and his seed spilling over inside of him while he rode it out until he had no more energy left, collapsing on top of Madara. The both of them were covered in sweat, completely worn-out and would probably have a giant hangover the next morning.

Madara didn't even _want_ to think about any of that as Hashirama slowly pulled out of him, both of them wrapping their yukata around their bodies as they lay on the grass in complete silence, trying to catch their breaths. Hashirama's arm was lazily slung over Madara's waist, his head resting on a pale shoulder, while Madara counted his own breaths. He felt the feeling of disgust well up from inside of him when he realized how dirty he was, wincing as he realized what had just happened.

Hashirama shifted his head and kissed his shoulder. Madara stopped thinking and closed his eyes while Hashirama caressed his hair. For tonight, he'd allow himself to enjoy it. For tonight, honor and dignity didn't matter. Hashirama watched Madara rest, and glanced up at the sky.

The fireworks had been long forgotten.

* * *

**Well, that was probably the most difficult chapter I've ever written for this story.**

**Excuse me while I go crawl into my bed and die.**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed (and encouraged) me to post the scene. I hope it was half-decent, or something. I'm a complete noob when it comes to writing lemons.**

**See ya next time. **


	20. Aching

**Aching**

When he woke up, his body was hurting in more places than one. His room was dark, curtains keeping out most of the light from outside as he lay on his bed on his left side, his brain having trouble starting up as he was content with staring at a wall, not a single thought crossing his mind. He blinked slowly, and after a few minutes of complete silence, finally moved his head to the side, facing the window. The headache wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be, though the feeling of nausea was rather annoying. Dulled, black eyes gazed at the small rays of light which escaped through the gaps the fabric of the curtain left around the edges of the window, illuminating the tiny dust particles floating around the room. He decided to try and sit upright, when a sharp pain shot through his lower back in the middle of the careful movement, a hiss escaping through his lips as his memory slowly cleared up.

It was still hazy in Madara's mind, blurred over by a mix of alcohol and ecstasy, but all of it – "_I'll make it feel good," – _came crashing down on him like a waterfall, the feeling, akin to being soaked in ice cold water, enough to wake up him completely. He barely remembered how he'd gotten home; probably had stubbornly stumbled his way back. He realized he was still _filthy_. He shuddered, for a moment the nausea growing more intense, when bits and pieces of what had happened started becoming more detailed.

"_Just… just do it–"_

"_M… ah, Madara–"_

"_Ah-again, that… that spot–"_

Unbearable.

A loud meow cried through the room, stinging and ringing through his ears as Momo stood near the halfway opened door, tail flicking back and forth as her large eyes stared at him expectantly – she probably hadn't had anything to eat for the past day. Madara gritted his teeth, considering letting her just starve as he rubbed the back of his head. At this movement she came walking towards him, then gently pressing her head against his other hand which rested on his leg. He lifted it slightly, allowing the cat to rub her head against it, though he made no movement to pet her as he simply watched. She purred, then attempted to climb on top of his lap to lie down when he pushed her away. He had to admit, he was grateful for the distraction. His thoughts still in a puddle of jumbled emotions, as he was unable to decide what he was feeling. Disgust, misery, relief, embarrassment, anger – he couldn't separate them all.

"Fine, I'm up." Madara grunted at the impatient feline as he moved slowly, the aching in his back a constant reminder of yesterday's chaotic night. He tried to push it out of his mind for now, not quite feeling ready to think about it yet, and instead tried focusing his thoughts on something else.

'_Cat food... is there even_ anything _edible left in this house for a human, let alone for a cat?_'

"_Mrreow!"_

"Be quiet."

'–_This isn't working.' _he realized with an annoyed groan, his fingers twitching as he remembered the feel of the dark, thick strands of hair intertwined between his fingers – _"Do it," _– as he walked towards his kitchen. With every step he took it felt like he was sinking down into a black hole, unspeakable thoughts he'd previously buried away in the deepest recesses of his mind floating up, while he sunk down into a quicksand of complete hopelessness. The more he struggled to ignore, the heavier the weight on his heart became. He should've been relieved this was all over with. He should be able to get on with his life now. Yet none of it was true.

_Why_? Madara couldn't understand _why_! Why was he still so hung up over it?! It had been nothing more than a night of casual sex, a fling – hadn't he himself been the one who'd adamantly insisted on referring to it as such in the first place? Then _why _was there this unpleasant burning in his chest, _why _did his mind insist on replaying the night over and over again – as if mocking him?

He'd never feel the tenderness of those warm hands on his pale skin again. He'd never hear sweetness whispered into his ears again. He'd never feel so _alive _again.

Far too gentle. It had all been far too gentle. Too meaningful. He couldn't get it out of his head anymore – that look in Hashirama's eyes; even in his memory it continued to burn holes through him. He'd been too exposed. He'd been completely at Hashirama's mercy.

He couldn't even tell who he was angry at more: himself for allowing it to get that far, or Hashirama for being Hashirama. Somewhere down the line, at some point, they'd crossed some sort of boundary–

_"What am I to you, Hashirama?"_

_"You are my greatest rival, but also my friend."_

_"You have a lot of friends. What makes me so different that you'd come looking for me?"_

"_You're irreplaceable."_

A loud crack, Momo jumping away, startled at the fist suddenly colliding with the wall. Madara squeezed his eyes shut, tried to force the memory out of his head, but to no avail. At that time, after Izuna's death, he'd been completely lost. He'd been fine with being lost. There were very few people he cared about, after all, but if the most important of them all disappeared, what was the point in caring anymore? He'd been ready to give it up and let go – but then _he _came looking for him. Hashirama, shining his light on him as tenaciously as the sun, jerking him awake out of the nightmare and reaching out his hand.

He'd been relieved, back then. He'd been glad, that there was something worth holding onto in this world after all. Hashirama had always been there, whether as an enemy or as an ally, he was the one constant factor in his life, the one thing that would never disappear. Madara hadn't realized he'd been holding on _too _much. He hadn't realized it had started to grow into an infatuation until it had been too late.

His breath hitched, his fist now leaning against the wall as he was nailed to the ground, unable to move. Too late.

Ever-steady gaze, warm smile, tender hands.

_Too late_.

"I'm…." He put his other hand through his hair, shaking his head at the intense feeling of realization taking a hold of him. He knew he hadn't wanted it to end like this. He couldn't deny it; wanted _more_. He was furious at Hashirama for taking him down this path, but also with himself, for letting it end like _this, _and even angrier that he cared so much when he'd sworn to himself that it was nothing but the most basic physical attraction; he'd been so determined to not get fooled into thinking this was _love_–

"_Fooled? Is that what you're going to call it?!"_

"_Why did you get so angry?"_

"_I've wanted to be with you for as long as I can remember. Maybe I didn't realize it at the time, but I've always wanted you."_

"_I'm in love, Madara." _

He stopped breathing, Hashirama's words echoing through his mind relentlessly, images of twisted memories flashing and screaming at him.

"I'm–"

"–_in love." _

"SHUT UP!"

Momo flinched away, staring at her distraught owner with wide eyes as if he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had; he was telling someone who wasn't even present to shut up, after all.

Denial crumbled down. He couldn't do it anymore, not after the euphoria of last night, and not after all that had been said and done. It had all culminated into a burning inside of his chest, the fire too big for him to ignore – yet going back to him was not an option. He _refused _to let his head hang down and admit defeat so easily; there was no future for the two of them either way. Hashirama was expected to marry at some point, and so was he. They couldn't just run off into the sunset together when they had so many responsibilities to carry.

There was always something in the way. There was always something left to do, something else that took priority.

This much he knew.

Yet it ached.

* * *

When he woke up, he wasn't as content as he'd expected to be. He didn't waste another second lying in bed, slowly getting up and noticing he wasn't wearing a shirt. Right; he'd been more sober than Madara had been when he'd returned home on his own after the man had stubbornly refused any help from Hashirama. Not that he hadn't expected that. He remembered coming home, cleaning himself up, spending some time awake in his bed to relish the faint afterglow of having just had amazing sex in a drunken stupor under the most romantic night sky one could imagine, and had eventually fallen asleep.

Now he'd woken up, however, the feeling of fulfilment had completely vanished. After he'd opened his curtains, the sight of the tranquil village greeting him with faint rays of sunlight falling on his face, he commenced his regular morning routine of washing up, putting some clothes on and having a brief breakfast which consisted of him shoving tasteless food down his throat just so he wouldn't have to be hungry later.

What would happen now? He'd have to think about his next move very carefully and remain prudent if he wanted to confront Madara any time soon. Knowing him, it would probably be best if he gave the man some space – let Madara's own thoughts drive him crazy to weaken his defences.

His front door was suddenly slammed open as he was putting the dirty dishes away, his younger brother stomping in with as much noise as possible. Hashirama raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, you're awake." Tobirama muttered with a slightly disappointed expression. "And no hangover, I see."

"Good morning." his older brother replied mildly irritated, looking at him. "You should sit down." Hashirama gestured to the low table, casually. His brother scowled.

"We're not children anymore; if you think you can scold me–"

"I'd just like to talk, that's all." Tobirama gave him a distrustful look, but sat down either way, keeping his eyes fixed on his older brother who seemed completely unbothered, unlike yesterday. Hashirama sat down right across from him, not saying anything for a moment.

"So I assume you had a good night?" The older one narrowed his eyes and the younger ones' rolled. "When did you get this possessive?"

"When did _you_ get this meddlesome?"

"Ever since you decided to stop talking to me and chase after your bad-tempered _lover _instead." His eyes widened slightly at the mention of the word as Tobirama leaned his arms on the table, eyeing him carefully. "What? Aren't you?" Hashirama stayed silent, making him sigh. "Let me guess; you made some sort of ridiculous bet about this being a one night stand and now you're not sure where you are anymore?"

"Straight to the point." Hashirama remarked dryly, folding his arms.

"Are you _really _going to make me play relationship therapist, here?"

"You seem to be enjoying yourself from where I'm standing." Tobirama smirked slightly at that. "But no, I don't need your advice. I think I can handle this myself."

"You used to trust me with everything." the younger pointed out with a frown, starting to grow frustrated at his sibling's distant behavior. Hashirama's face remained stoic as he replied.

"So did you." Tobirama blinked, puzzled by this answer. "Weren't you the one to push me away first by not wanting to tell me about this vague jutsu you were working on together with Madara in the afternoons?"

Oh, he certainly hadn't forgotten about _that_ yet.

"But that wasn't… that's not the point! Don't try to turn this around on me."

"How is it any different, little brother?"

"Your reasons are _selfish_ – you want to keep Madara all to yourself. Mine are different." Hashirama fell silent for a moment as Tobirama slowly realized how that had actually sounded spoken aloud.

"Are you _jealous_?"

"_**No**_**! **No, that's not– I didn't mean it like _that_!" At Hashirama's incredulous look Tobirama became agitated. "I'm NOT into men!" he emphasized with wild hand gestures, though that didn't help him much.

"…Right." the dark-haired man took a moment to rub his forehead with a certain weariness in his features, wondering what to do with this situation. "Tobirama, this is something I need to handle on my own. It's something very personal." he explained cautiously, though his shrewd younger brother had already gotten the meaning hidden underneath.

"This is full-blown, once-in-a-life-time love isn't it?"

"Basically, yes." Hashirama confirmed curtly, receiving a disbelieving gaze in turn.

"You realize this might end up in tragedy, right?"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Tobirama put a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head contemplatively. "When I thought of you two getting together, I didn't think it would be _this _serious."

"That's why I need you to stay out of it. Do you understand now?"

"Yeah, fine, I get it." Tobirama immediately replied, suddenly not so keen on talking about it anymore. "Just… just don't forget that Madara isn't the only person in the world, alright? We can't have his melodramatic behavior hogging up all of your attention, no matter how much you like it."

"I don't enjoy–"

"Denial, denial." Tobirama brushed it off nonchalantly as he stood up, as if he wanted to leave, but then stopped and stood still, staring down at his brother with a hesitant look. "About that jutsu… I really do need you to trust me on this one." Hashirama frowned mildly. He still didn't see how anything _safe _could warrant this much secrecy, and he knew without a doubt that it would be something highly ambitious, but he decided to give his brother the benefit of the doubt. He trusted him enough to do as he wished, for now.

"I know; I do trust you." Tobirama nodded, and though he didn't seem entirely reassured, they both knew it was the best answer Hashirama could give him for the time being. "How far along are you, anyway?" Tobirama started avoiding eye-contact.

That wasn't a good sign.

"Nearly done." was the too-cool response. "It's kind of complicated."

"This isn't… anything too _unethical_, is it?" Tobirama took too long to think of an answer and Hashirama grew suspicious. "Tobirama–"

"Look, it's nothing you need to worry about now, alright? I assure you, it's all for the good of the village." Before Hashirama could respond to that, his brother made the motion to leave. "I need to go. We'll talk about it some other time."

"Tobirama!" The older one stood up, but his sibling had already left, not giving him the room to question him some more. This jutsu, whatever it was, didn't sound too good. He could only imagine what Tobirama had in mind _now_, and from the looks of it, it might just be the most dangerous jutsu he'd attempted to create yet if he couldn't even trust Hashirama with it. He sighed, left alone in his home once again, and a feeling of something missing settled in his gut. It was cloudy outside yet he decided for a walk anyway, if only to distract him for a while. It had just been a few hours since he'd seen the man and already he felt the urge to look for him again. He knew he couldn't do that, and most likely Madara wouldn't be feeling too well anyway; Hashirama hadn't exactly been gentle with him near the end–

Best to stop that train of thought before the chaotic memories turned too vivid and he lost his focus entirely. It had been sloppy, and messy, and had left him wanting more. There really was no end to it; you'd think he would've had enough by now, but his hunger was insatiable. He felt like he could have Madara again and again and again and he _still _wouldn't be satisfied. He'd almost think that locking the man up in his bedroom might be a solution to the aching in his chest from being without him – but he also knew that _that _was borderline obsessive and completely unhealthy.

Then again, with a past like theirs, how could anything _healthy _ever come out of it in the first place?

* * *

When had been the last time he'd actually cooked something? These days he always ended up eating out. Momo was following him rather incessantly, after he'd calmed down a bit, and he cursed at the cat when she got in his way, nearly making him trip as she rubbed up against his legs. The sound of rustling feathers then distracted him and he looked up at the nearest open window. Sora sat there on the windowsill, glaring at him, spreading her wings once, flapping them briefly as if scolding him, then remaining still again.

Momo hissed at his hawk, Madara ignoring the cat and walking over to Sora, sliding two fingers over her head while she regarded him with a silent stare. He murmured an apology before the cat started meowing again and he scowled, walking over to one of the cupboards and pulling it open. After awhile of searching he still hadn't found anything that could be called edible, unless you counted the rotten peaches and half-eaten fish wrapped in a napkin.

Well, that wasn't going to do at all, now was it?

Three knocks on his front door made him look up. Momo hurried away, mewling loudly as Hikaku entered the house, carefully manoeuvring around Momo who shot outside, no doubt deciding to go hunting for field mice instead of waiting for Madara to feed her. Sora glared at Hikaku, who ignored her and was more surprised to see Madara walking around.

"What?" Madara snapped at the bemused look on the younger man's face.

"Are you sure you should be up and about?" At receiving the puzzled frown Hikaku clarified. "When I found you stumbling home last night you were practically half dead – you could barely walk straight and even threw up on the side of the road." Madara was silent for a moment.

"None of that happened."

"Wha–"

"I don't remember it, so none of that happened." he concluded simply, Hikaku sighing while shaking his head.

"Well, at least people don't think you're a demon from hell anymore." Madara raised an eyebrow at this, nonchalantly leaning against the kitchen counter while giving his cousin a questioning look. "Seeing you drunk probably humanized you somewhat in the villagers' eyes."

"Hn."

"You should rest."

"You should keep your mouth shut."

"Ouch. I'm just worried–"

"I don't need it."

Hikaku let out an annoyed sigh; though he was well aware of the fact that there was no reasoning with Madara when he was in moods like these, he couldn't help but try.

"Can I at least ask what you were doing all night? No one saw you since you left the bar in a drunken daze." Madara glared at him, clearly unwilling to answer that. Hikaku glared back, unwilling to back down.

"I was out."

"Tch. _Obviously_." he scoffed displeased, then blinked. "My god, I'm starting to sound like _you_!"

"Oh, the horror." Madara sneered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "If you came here just to whine at me, I suggest you leave. I have a headache."

"No, there was another reason, actually." Hikaku replied, now getting serious. "A few of our men who went near the border were attacked last night, presumably by shinobi from the Land of Wind."

"Didn't they form some Hidden Village too? Sunagakure, was it?" Madara questioned indifferently, leaning against the wall near a window and staring out of it. Hikaku nodded in confirmation. "Well, I suppose if you're going out to murder a few people, you might as well butcher originality while you're at it."

"Either way, if it turns out to be true, this might turn into war."

"Hmph. I was wondering how long the peace would last." Madara muttered in a bitter tone, frowning at nothing in particular as his eyes gazed into the distance, looking at something that couldn't be seen. Hikaku observed him for a few seconds in silence, for the first time, seeing not a leader nor a warrior, but a man who'd grown tired of the rest of the world. It was a peculiar sight, and felt... _off. _

"There's a meeting with the other clan leaders in the afternoon–"

"In the _Senju's _compound?"

"…As always, yes."

Madara's gaze softened considerably for a moment, leaving Hikaku to wonder what he was thinking about. "Understood. You may leave." The formal tone inclined the younger man to bow his head before he turned around and left, a hundred curious thoughts swirling inside of his head. He pondered as he closed the front door behind him. That _look_, even if it had been for a mere second, it hadn't been anything he'd seen on Madara's face before. The young man stopped walking for a moment to briefly glance over his shoulder back to the house he'd just left.

'_Could he be in love?'_

* * *

**You guys are way too kind to me.**

**Simple chapter. Life's in the shitter at the moment, so I couldn't write anything longer this time around.**

**Hope you liked it though!**

**See ya next time. **


	21. Clash

**Clash**

They watched him as he entered. The grace of a king amongst men; unshakable and a force of nature. Benevolence exuded from him, the warmth of the sun in his core, and entirely out of their reach – his promises, they'd thought, similarly unreachable. Idealism that only stood in the way of realism, nothing but a childish denial and refusal to face the world and realize things could never be as bright as he perceived them to be.

Then he'd made peace.

It shook the entire shinobi world. Questions arose. Perhaps this man wasn't full of hot air as they'd initially thought, perhaps there was something to his dreams after all? Perhaps, this was the man they could put their faith in to end the bloodshed. Thus, a village was born.

These clan leaders, seated around the long table in a dull room which had little to no other furniture, in their contemplations of what was the glory of Hashirama Senju, conveniently omitted the fact that without the Uchiha, all their hopes for future generations would've never been possible.

Where he smiled, the other scowled. Where he promised peace, the other promised a storm. He was such a stark contrast to the other man that they seemed to clash by mere eye-contact when he, too, entered as well, being the last to arrive. The grace of a devil amongst men; brutal and a force of fury.

They were nervous at having both of these forces in the same room – with a tension they could not understand, with words unspoken they did not hear – and watched. A formal greeting sounded like a declaration of war. A smile seemed like the answer to the challenge. Both of them seated at either ends of the table, fixated and getting down right to business. The Hyūga clan leader remained stoic, glancing sideways to the Sarutobi leader who seemed less comfortable, down to the Nara clan head who looked like he'd rather get chewed up by the dogs from the Inuzuka clan than be present in the meeting.

Hashirama continued smiling, and Madara continued scowling.

Suna is a threat. We don't know whether these were official shinobi or just bandits. Three of my men were killed. I understand, but we can't risk the safety of the entire village on a hunch. This is not a hunch; it's obvious they're intending war. We don't know that, there's no reason to escalate the situation. So you would have us cower away with pathetic diplomacy? We'll send a messenger. A _messenger_? They'll get killed. If they do, then we'll take action, but we mustn't jump to conclusions.

It was decided, the main conversation between the two founders, with the other leaders chiming in every now and then. The Hyūga and Sarutobi volunteered to send men. It was quickly resolved. They were stunned at how cooperative the Uchiha was, yet how defiant he was at the same time. There was an undertone in the conversation which went far too deep for any of them to understand entirely. A strange chemistry.

The Nara clan leader suspected, but didn't care. The Hyūga clan leader was too blinded by his own preconceptions to even consider the possibility. The rest was oblivious. All was well for the both of them; for the moment, at least.

The last to arrive was the first to leave; the walls of the compound suffocating him. There was just too much of _his_ presence here. Facing him had made his skin burn and his chest tighten, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, his lungs begging for fresh air. It all revolved around _him_. He thought social pleasantries would keep the other man busy enough for him to make his leave. Facing him right now – Madara couldn't bring himself to it.

Surprisingly enough, he wasn't chased.

This confused him greatly. Hashirama usually wouldn't have let him go this easily; he would've expected some sort of forced conversation about their feelings, yet he was allowed to leave on his own. Halfway on his way out, his feet suddenly refused to take another step. His head moved on its own, eyes peering over his own shoulder.

Why wasn't he coming after him?

He started to grow anxious and aggravated – _'Isn't he the one who always spouts the lovey-dovey crap about romance? Then where is he now?' _– when a small question that was uttered in the back of his mind turned into ice-cold fear.

What if Hashirama had already moved on after that night?

He got out so fast that he'd almost been running, a gust of wind brushing over the people he passed as the hallways that echoed that man's presence were choking him. What if that one moment under the glittering night sky had been enough? What if he'd used Madara and had gotten sick of him already? Had this been a game, then? Had he really fallen for it all so easily?

Or, he was just being paranoid. All those fire-filled looks and all those sugary sweet words couldn't have been a lie. All the moments they'd shared, they'd _actually _shared, they hadn't been one-sided. Not on top of the cliff looking out over a future Konoha. Not in the large hallway lined with giant windows. Not in the dango shop, not on their walks through Konoha, not in his garden, not near the Naka River, not in the alleyway, not during the festival – he hadn't imagined all of that, had he?

'_Calm down_,_' _he snarled internally at his heart, which had fluttered in panic. Even outside, in the fresh air, Konoha trapped him inside of his own thoughts. The entire village; it hummed with his presence everywhere, on every street corner, in every shop, walking around with that pleasant smile, waving at the villagers, greeting them, having small talk with them as if they were family. Completely overpowering.

If this bothered him so, maybe he should make the first move? But that– that was _unthinkable. _He might as well get down on his knees and declare his undying love if he did that; it would be admitting defeat, and he nor his pride was willing to make that sacrifice.

"Are you alright?" He spun around on his feet, eyes narrowing instantly when they met those of Mito. She'd not addressed him with "lord" for once, nor had even greeted him. She looked curious more than anything. "You look a little paler than usual."

"Mind your own business, woman." he snapped, turning his back on her again and walking away, when she stubbornly put in a pursuit.

"Now wait just a moment–" He only started walking faster at this and she sighed in annoyance. "We need to talk! I don't think you quite understand what's actually going on here." He glanced at her as she was walking just two steps behind him now, hands slightly lifting her beige kimono, making it easier for her to keep up with his pace.

"I don't need to understand. " he replied sharply. He really didn't quite comprehend why this woman, whom he'd assumed had been pining for Hashirama all along, would help him in such a manner, but she was too annoying for him to care.

"Well, a lot of unpleasantness would be avoided that way, and I think we'd both rather not bother with arguing every time we have a conversation, don't you think?" she attempted again, her thin eyebrows furrowed into an irritated frown.

"Tch. Staying away from me and not being so nosy would solve that problem just as easily."

"I'm _not _your rival in love!" she hissed at him, making him stop abruptly as she lightly bumped into his back. "Sorry." she muttered in embarrassment, immediately taking a few steps back. He glared down at her, but now felt a little uncertain as well.

"Then what _do _you want?" Mito blinked once, looking away a little awkwardly as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.

"W-well, first of all, you have to understand we're definitely _not _getting married. Not ever." she emphasized. He stared at her a moment longer, observing her calm facial expression, and it didn't seem like she was lying. He nodded stiffly, and she smiled relieved.

"That still doesn't answer my question." Madara responded impatiently, and Mito looked around, probably checking if there were any eavesdroppers. Then she started walking and he followed.

"The whole arrangement was beyond my control. It would've been nothing more than a political marriage. At first I thought I was lucky, that this was the best I could ever get out of life, but he… he gave me another chance." Madara scowled at her, getting rather irritated at hearing the fondness in her tone, though she didn't seem to notice as she continued. "He asked me what _I _wanted, and I didn't _actually _want that life for myself. Marrying a complete stranger to lock me up in a pretty cage for the rest of my life; the very thought horrified me."

"So, he told his clan elders to shove it and rejected the proposal, did he?" Mito's eyes widened, looking up at him a little flustered.

"How did you–"

"It's something he'd do." Madara replied simply, making Mito smile up at him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." she said, chuckling to herself.

"Spit it out."

"I'd really rather not–"

"Uzumaki, _spit it out_."

"Well, it's just that…." She blushed, staring down at the ground for a moment. "You're just _so _cute together!" He wasn't sure what to feel about that, so he just settled with giving her an incredulous look and she just laughed at him, as if it were a joke.

"If you value the use of your tongue at all, never repeat those words in my presence again."

"Understood." she said with a semi-serious nod, trying to hide her grin behind her hand suppressing another chuckle. "Um, anyway, because he did that for me, I'm very grateful to him. It's obvious he loves you, and I just thought he deserved to find his own happiness, and if I can help with that–"

"No one asked for your help." Madara snarled at her, shoulders having tensed at the mention of love. Mito frowned slightly.

"How far would you two have gotten without me_ that_ night? The both of you were so drunk you would've probably ended up in some disgusting alleyway on top of a pile of garbage." she pointed out, ignoring the intense glowering on his part.

"It still wasn't any of your business."

"Have you even talked to him yet?" Madara didn't respond, staring straight ahead of him. "You haven't? Didn't you just have some sort of meeting? Oh, don't tell me you ran away?"

"I didn't run." he huffed. "…I jogged."

"Honestly, you're hopeless!" Mito exclaimed exasperatedly, Madara making a mental note that this woman was a lot louder and a lot more talkative than she'd initially let on as villagers shot them strange looks while they walked by. "He's head over heels over you! What more do you need?" she then whispered, having realized they were in public.

"Now listen here, Uzumaki," he growled, being completely fed up with her meddlesome attitude now as he stood still and turned to face her, "I don't know how you got it into that thick head of yours that this could ever work, but it _can't_. It was merely… temporary." He had to force the last word out of his throat, feeling it stinging in his chest.

"That's nonsense; you're just too blinded by your own pride." she insisted with a stubborn look, making his blood boil.

"_You_–"

"Now, now, no need to get so heated." she interrupted him cheerfully, both of them noticing a certain silver-haired male walking towards them. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually." Madara's fingers itched, but he directed his angry look at Tobirama instead, who stood there staring with a mild frown at the both of them, Mito still smiling.

"Uchiha," he spoke, glancing at Mito before looking back at Madara. "I need to talk to you about something."

"It seems everyone does today. I feel _so_ loved."

"I guess I'll leave you two at it, then. Good day." Mito bowed slightly to the both of them, turning around and taking her leave, heading for the small teashop on the corner of the street. Tobirama watched her go for a moment before Madara shot him an impatient look as he stayed silent for a while.

"Well?"

Tobirama sighed and started walking, Madara taking a second to observe before he followed and then walked beside him, starting to grow more irritated by the second. Today wasn't a good day for him.

"I completed it." Madara remained silent at that, staring out ahead of himself. His companion took that as a cue to continue. "But it… will be difficult, to perform."

"Why is that?"

"Well, to bind the spirit of the person being summoned, you need a fully functioning body."

"A living sacrifice?" Tobirama nodded stiffly.

"I was thinking, if we _did _go to war with Suna… capturing a few shinobi…." The young Senju didn't finish his sentence but Madara got the gist of it. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. He'd always known that Tobirama had been ambitious, certainly; but this was on an entirely different level of morally _questionable_.

"And you believe it would be worth it?" he questioned. Even if he really couldn't care less about his enemies, using them for such a jutsu sounded completely wrong on an ethical level.

"We'd kill them after interrogating them anyway – we might as well put their life to good use." Tobirama replied and Madara scowled. To bring back his brother in such a state seemed rather reprehensible now. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, thinking about whether it would be the right thing to do. "It's ultimately for the benefit of the village. Who'd think to attack us if we can summon undead soldiers to fight with us, endlessly regenerating?"

"For the village?" Madara sighed, stopping with walking and both of them stood still at the corner of the street. A few kids – Madara recognized one of them to be Kagami – ran through the street, playing tag. Kagami was chased, and when spotting his older cousin, smiled and hid behind his legs, peering at the slightly taller boy who'd been chasing him. The blond kid stopped running, gaping up at Madara nervously while Kagami stuck out his tongue to his friend. Tobirama barely suppressed a chuckle as Madara stood there, looking stately with his arms folded across his chest and glaring down at the blond boy – though his look quickly shifted to Kagami.

"Don't be a coward." he told the kid sternly. "You want to be a shinobi, don't you? We don't hide behind other people." Kagami pouted, nodding slowly. Madara softly pushed him out in front of the blond boy, who smirked, tagging him instantly and then running away as fast as he came.

"Hey, no fair! I wasn't ready!" Kagami whined, immediately setting in the chase though it didn't seem like he could keep up. Madara spotted his aunt a few feet away. She looked a lot like his mother, especially with the gentle smile tugging on her lips. Madara merely nodded in acknowledgment; the only kind of greeting you'd ever get out of him if you were lucky. He turned back to Tobirama who was still waiting for an answer.

Well, he was pretty convinced he was going to hell either way. Might as well give this a shot while he was at it.

"What do you need?"

* * *

As it turned out, a few days later Sunagakure intended war. Hashirama wasn't happy with this, especially considering that it hadn't even been a year since they'd founded the village. Madara was a little relieved; he'd been getting anxious with no real battle for the past few months, not to mention it would be an excellent opportunity to vent all the frustrations he'd been bottled up with the past days. Hashirama had seemed to practically ignore his entire existence. Madara knew damn well this was his ploy to get him to submit – and while he told himself he wasn't going to be the one to crack first, it only got worse with every glance, with every casual greeting, with every polite smile devoid of the usual affection. It was driving him completely insane, and he wasn't so sure how much longer he could grit his teeth and look the other way until he (inevitably) admitted defeat.

Mito could only be concerned. Not just because of the war, but because of the increasing twitching of Madara's fingers and his increasingly bad mood. She didn't push the matter of him and Hashirama any longer – mainly because he looked like he was going to pull out an axe and violently murder everyone in his vicinity every time she even mentioned the man's _name _– but it was also something he had to decide for himself.

For Tobirama, while he wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect of war, it _was _an excellent opportunity to finally experiment with his new jutsu. No one would care what he did with an enemy prisoner after he was interrogated, after all. No one, except for his brother – keeping it secret from Hashirama until it was completed was the best course of action at the moment. Tobirama also wasn't too concerned with what was going on with his brother and Madara any longer. Hashirama had made it clear this was a boundary he could not cross and he respected that enough to leave it alone – though, he was still on edge. While Hashirama seemed the same as ever in public, behind closed doors, he seemed to get gloomier and more vexed as time passed. This stupid little game they had going on was sure to end up in either a complete disaster or a complete success.

Meanwhile, during one of the regular meetings of the clan leaders of the village, it was decided Konoha needed a leader if they were to go to war for the first time. In the end, it could only be either Madara Uchiha or Hashirama Senju.

This decision, they both realized, might just tear everything apart.

* * *

**I have to admit I was worried.**

**I honestly have little trust in Kishimoto's abilities as a writer as of late, and after an entire onslaught of threads and posts on forums about Hashirama turning out to be "so much like Naruto", I was ready to shoot myself in the face at the prospect of having Hashirama be labelled as an adult version of Naruto from then on.**

**Thank god I was proven wrong.**

**(Poor Hiruzen nearly got a heart-attack.)**

**(And Tobirama is an asshole.)**

**(A very lovable asshole.)**

**You may also be interested in knowing that I have another HashiMada multi-chapter fic planned after this one. It's still a _very_ basic concept and an AU fic, but seriously, I'm getting sick of seeing the lack of fics here so I'm officially going on a mission to bring you more HashiMada fanfics at the cost of my life. Which I've already lost somewhere along the way, so I guess it doesn't matter anymore.**

**Anyway, that was it for today. Hope you enjoyed! I love all of your feedback, so keep it coming!**

**See ya next time.**


	22. Decisions

**Decisions**

This had been inevitable.

He'd realized it would eventually come to this once Sunagakure had started to form a threat. Realistically, they had nothing to fear – but of course they would need to minimize the casualties that would follow from the oncoming battles, which would be done most effectively if they had someone coordinating and planning accordingly; a single leader. Konoha couldn't go on with clan leaders bickering amongst themselves, thus someone needed to take the reins. In the end, it could only be one out of the two founders.

Hashirama was sitting on the small steps outside of the compound building right in front of his garden, watching the petals of the wisteria tree fall down. With every passing day, more and more of its flowers started withering away. It wouldn't be long before it all eventually died off to leave the tree empty. The weather was getting colder with the day and it really wasn't the right time to go to war. He'd had battles in winter before and they'd been a royal pain in the ass. Dodging a barrage of shuriken while your toes are ready to freeze off isn't exactly the most pleasant experience in the world.

Tobirama seemed convinced it would be him. Hashirama wasn't sure what to feel about that. Leading was something he did all the time; it felt only natural to take lead of the village he created. Together with _him_. He knew for a fact Madara wouldn't take this lying down – and perhaps he should've found a better way of phrasing that in his head because he started having trouble focusing his thoughts.

A single raindrop landed on his cheek and he turned to look up at the grey sky that had been terrorizing the village for quite a long time now. Autumn had always been his least favorite season – it was when the flowers started dying and the trees lost their leafs, a cold wind scattering them across the ground for people to trample on. The season had always had an unfriendly feel to him. Even the winter, when everything was asleep, felt more peaceful than the storms in autumn.

A small branch with a few petals that had broken off wisteria tree floated down with the unruly wind, landing in front of his feet. Surprisingly, the petals hadn't fallen off. He bent down and picked it up, idly studying the small branch while the wind continued to blow, throwing his hair in all kinds of directions which would make it annoying to comb out later, no doubt. The scent reminded him of the one afternoon he'd never forget. The raindrops started falling more frequently as time passed and Hashirama stood up, not feeling particularly inclined to get soaked for no reason. He retreated inside, the small branch with petals still held almost tenderly in his left hand.

He wasn't sure where he was wandering off to through the numerous corridors of the compound, though it didn't matter much. A few of his clansmen greeted him when he walked past.

"So you'll lead the village into war, right?" one of them, the tallest in the group of three wearing a mask, inquired with a grin.

"The decision hasn't been made yet." Hashirama replied indifferently, though he felt a little annoyed as well of their casual dismissal of his rival. The group laughed it off, clearly convinced of his victory, and he moved on, feeling a little grouchier, deciding to head home and maybe take a nap or read a book, or do practically whatever it took to take his mind off things for at least a little while.

"Have you ever heard of this thing called a _comb_?" He stopped and looked to the right, spotting Tōka leaning against the wall as she stared disapprovingly at his hair.

"Yes, but I'm not crazy enough to carry it with me everywhere I go." Hashirama responded with a frown, as she walked over to his side and the two continued on their way together. Tōka was silent for a moment. He knew what she wanted to say, but it seemed like she didn't know how to say it. So he answered to save her the effort. "I haven't talked to him yet." She stared at him questioningly and he looked away. He knew he _should've _by now. At first it was about giving Madara time to deal with it. Now he needed time to… deal with the possibility of being completely shot down. Madara turned out to be a lot more stubborn than he'd initially thought – he'd expected some sort of signal or at least an incentive on his part to talk, but he'd done no such thing. Now Hashirama was left in complete doubt, and only stalling the inevitable. Add to that the new developments on a political front and anyone could tell his time was running out.

"You need to do _something_. I think you've tortured the both of you enough." Tōka eventually remarked rather stoically, though the frustration was evident in her eyes.

"I know that."

"If you don't talk to him before the decision is made–"

"I _know _that!" he snapped, so unusually vexed that it even startled his advisor.

"Then talk to him before the sun is down and stop acting like a depressed teenage boy in puberty!" she snapped back, startling him even more than he'd had her. He was silent as she sighed, rubbing her temples. "_Men_. Complete idiots." she muttered to herself, not caring that Hashirama could hear her. "If you don't do something soon you'll run the risk of alienating him completely, if you haven't already. It's a high-risk game you're playing."

"Also a high-reward one."

"You're putting all your bets on his self-torture of his infatuation with you?"

"That's… one way to put it."

"Well, I suppose you've always been a lucky gambler." She frowned slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"You're awfully concerned about my love-life." he noted then, knowing that instead he should've just felt glad she cared enough to give him advice and not condemn him for his choices, but he couldn't help but wonder _why _she was doing this. Tōka rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms as she stood still and so did he in the middle of a mostly empty hallway.

"You deserve to be happy more than anyone I know. Of course the person you chose isn't… well, someone I can agree with, but I know you well enough that nothing is going to change your mind, or your feelings." She paused for a moment as he gazed back at her, a wide smile flourishing on his face. "That being said, the both of you are too thick-headed to handle this on your own. To be honest, without all the help you got until now I think this could've ended up going horribly wrong. It still can." Even that couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"Thank you, Tōka." She blinked, looking away almost embarrassed, as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"You're welcome, I guess." she grumbled, staring down at the ground as he chuckled at her social awkwardness. "W-well, in any case, it doesn't seem like you'll be talking to him any time today. It's a storm out there." The two of them stared out a window, the rain pouring down ruthlessly as people scurried to find a dry place. The wind was unusually strong, howling against the walls of the compound. Certainly, anyone going out in this kind of weather wouldn't be in for a treat. Hashirama stared outside for a while, the mild smile slowly turning into a contemplative expression.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

* * *

He knew the answer before he even asked. Hikaku averted his gaze to the floor, shame fleetingly crossing his features as if the responsibility of the decision having been made fell onto him. Madara didn't breathe for a few seconds – a slow, searing hot anger seeping into his skin and boiling all the blood rushing through his veins. Hikaku opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind.

What was there left to say? _I'm sorry they betrayed you_? _I'm sorry they betrayed Izuna_? _I'm sorry they spat on his sacrifice, and on your sacrifice; all the blood you soaked your hands in for our sake rendered useless_?

Hikaku didn't know, but in that moment, all that mattered to him was that his leader – his _friend – _was on the precipice. He reached out his hand, crossing the boundary between leader and subordinate, fingers brushing briefly over Madara's shoulder before they were pushed aside and rejected. Madara turned his back on him, hands grasping at the windowsill. There were no lights in the sky that night, and Hikaku watched him peer into the darkness, as if he'd find his answer there, somewhere far away and right out of his reach. That's ultimately what Hikaku had done the entire time; watching. Stop to stare when he'd lost his last brother, when he'd locked himself up in his house and had hidden away from the world, when he'd stared him right in the eyes and all that remained had been nothing more than a man who'd lived through too much.

Hikaku knew he should've done something, _anything_, before this point. He knew he should've been more forceful, consequences be damned. He should've wrestled some answers out of him, anything to help him understand the situation Madara was in more. He hadn't. He'd been too reluctant. Too much of a coward.

"Madara…." There was no response. He didn't even move. "Say something, _please._" The silence persisted for a few seconds, when Madara finally glanced over his shoulder at him. The eye-contact took his breath away, and Madara continued gazing out the window once again. It was like staring into cold, lifeless glass.

"There's nothing for me to say. You already know."

Yes, he'd known. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd know that this was what it would all come back to. Their clan had made their decision, and it was not in Madara's favor. Hikaku couldn't say he didn't see it coming but it had infuriated him nonetheless. They'd banded together, spouting their lies created from misinformed rumors, portraying their leader as some sort of blood-crazed maniac who only protested out of jealousy and spite and a hunger for more battle. It simply wasn't true. It was not even Hashirama himself that was the main problem; it was the _Senju clan_. But they didn't understand that, they couldn't see that – they thought this was just Madara's problem with Hashirama that caused him to be so oppositional.

"_What do you think will happen down the line?! You submit now and it'll be all over! You can't fall for their pretty promises and talk about peace; what have they done to earn your trust?!"_

"_Hashirama isn't the one who's still out for more battle."_

"_There's no reason for you to oppose it; you're just hungry for more power!"_

"_We've tired of this, everyone is. We can't support you in this, not this time." _

They got it all wrong. Hikaku _knew _it wasn't like that, and he didn't need Madara to explicitly state it to understand. The look of pure betrayal and rage in his eyes had been enough to convince him of that. But now, what would Madara do? Hikaku could only fear for the worst as he stared at his back. Outside the rain was pouring down and the weather had made a turn for the worst. How fitting.

"What will you do?" Hikaku asked quietly, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Either way, he received none, and Madara stayed silent. "Maybe… maybe this won't be so bad. I'm sure as long as you're still in charge of the clan–"

"And how long before that changes as well?" Hikaku was flabbergasted for a moment, not comprehending how Madara could've ever thought otherwise.

"There's no one else good enough to take your place and you know that. They may be unhappy with you now but once all of this is over I'm sure they'll come around again." he replied quietly, blinking when his leader let out a loud, hollow laugh.

"If only things could be that easy." Madara stared up at the sky as it flashed white, the storm raging outside. "It's never that easy with me." Hikaku scowled slightly, remembering that being mentioned before.

"Your friend told you that, right?" He felt like he was missing something big here but he couldn't figure out _what_. Madara looked up at him, nodding stiffly, and he was certain there was something going on that he'd completely missed. That far-off look in his eyes wasn't normal. "This friend… is it someone I know?" Madara stared at him for a long few seconds, slowly parting his lips to answer, when something in the corner of both of their eyes drew their attention.

"Someone's outside." Madara muttered with a scowl, as both of them indeed saw someone walking around in the distance.

"In this weather? He must be crazy."

"Crazy…" Madara's eyes widened in recognition. "That can't be… what is that idiot doing?!" he hissed suddenly, both of them realizing the identity of the eccentric man who thought it would be a good idea to walk around in the middle of a storm. They watched, both of their expressions aghast with disbelief, though after a second or three Madara moved, and at the same time, there was a knocking on his front door. Hikaku followed him, his mouth still hanging open, and sure enough when Madara opened the door, there he stood. Hashirama Senju, soaking wet with a smirk on his face and looking like someone had thrown him right through a hurricane, after which he'd miraculously ended up in front of Madara's house.

Gusts of wind swept through the building as one flabbergasted man gazed at the other who was smirking, the rain still hitting his back though he didn't seem to mind.

"_What _are _you _doing _here_?!"

Hikaku stood a few feet away, not sure what to do with himself in this situation.

"I just thought it'd be nice to come and say hello." Hashirama replied with a perfect calmness, as if this was a daily occurrence. Madara was silent for a moment, not sure what to say to such a completely ridiculous and blatant lie, as he then narrowed his eyes. The Uchiha section of the village was closed off to others unless they had permission from clan members to visit. Even Hashirama wouldn't have been let in – but due to the storm, no one was on guard duty, since no one thought anyone would be insane (or stupid) enough to be outside in this weather.

"So you used the storm to sneak in here. What do you want?" the Uchiha leader said coldly, completely disregarding the Senju's statement. Hashirama opened his mouth to answer, when instead of words, a sneeze came out as he quickly pulled up his arm to his mouth. Madara sighed, rubbing his temples with both hands for a moment. This was, without a doubt, the _worst _possible moment for him to get a visit from that man. Especially since Hikaku was around, it would be another layer of awkward since they needed to keep up the façade of "_friendly rivalry_" instead of the "_needlessly complicated love affair_" that was _actually _going on.

"Mind if I–"

"Just get in." Madara snapped, interrupting him with a glare and stepping aside. The Senju walked in, water dripping down as he pulled his soaking wet and mud-covered boots off, Madara nearly cringing at the mess it left behind on his floor as he closed the door behind him. Hashirama looked up and finally spotted the third person present, who'd been watching rather uncomfortably.

"Oh, I didn't know you had company." the Senju remarked to his rival first, before speaking to the third man. "Hikaku, was it?" The younger Uchiha nodded slowly, then bowed, hoping that the rain would stop so he could take his leave. He'd rather not be in the same room with these two; their chemistry and the odd tension between them was rather unnerving.

"Get that… get him a towel." Madara ordered his cousin, barely holding back another insult as Hashirama smiled. Hikaku nodded again, immediately retreating to another room, and the moment he was out of earshot, the smile on Hashirama's face was wiped off, instead being replaced by a thoughtful stare as he observed Madara's furious look while the man leaned in, grasping his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" the Uchiha hissed, evidently angry with the spontaneous intrusion. He'd thought that at least at home he'd be safe from constantly being reminded of Hashirama, but now, every time he stood at the door and watched someone pull their shoes off before completely entering, he'd have to think back to this day where Hashirama had left his muddy boots on the floor.

"Come on now, we needed to talk _eventually_." Madara gazed up at him incredulously, letting go and taking a step back, entirely reluctant to let the man take another step further into his home before his presence infected everything in the house.

"And you thought _now_ would be the right time?" Hashirama was about to retort, when he frowned slightly, cocking his head to the right.

"Something happened?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Madara–" He couldn't finish his sentence as Hikaku walked back in with a thick towel. Madara walked over, grabbing it from his cousin and throwing at Hashirama's head, who didn't move to catch it as it hit him square in the face. The Senju leader let out an annoyed sigh as he pulled the towel up to reveal his face and the displeased expression it was wearing.

"Perhaps I should take my leave." Hikaku muttered, glancing outside. It was still a heavy storm but nothing that would kill him.

"You don't need to–"

"My house is nearby and I have some things I have to take care of anyway. I wouldn't want to be a bother to the two of you." Madara scowled deeply at this, not looking forward to being left alone with _him_ – but he didn't have an excuse to keep Hikaku here either, so he had no choice but to allow it. Hikaku walked to the front door, put his shoes on, and after another bow, took his leave, quickly shutting the door behind him. The sound of his hurried footsteps eventually faded and the two clan leaders were left alone in an uneasy silence.

"Aren't you going to invite me to take a seat?" Hashirama asked in a lighter tone this time while drying his hair with the towel still on his head.

"I'd rather not." Madara replied coolly, crossing his arms as he watched Hashirama then throw the towel around his shoulders, his hair still moist and his clothes still dripping. He sneezed again and Madara clenched his jaw. "Follow me." he huffed, turning and walking off, a somewhat flustered Hashirama following him a little hesitantly. Reluctantly Madara slid his bedroom door open, walking over to his closet. Hashirama stood in the doorway, looking around with wide eyes as if trying to memorize the room as fast as possible. Madara then walked back towards the Senju, shoving some spare clothes against his chest which Hashirama took. "Change in the bathroom." he practically ordered, pointing to a door on his left. Hashirama first looked the dark blue yukata over.

"Do you put your clan symbol on _everything_?" he wondered aloud, though he didn't mind wearing it. Madara glowered at him.

"Do you need new clothes or not?" Hashirama smirked.

"I'm not complaining. It's better than sitting around naked."

There was an awkward silence as that image slowly sunk in.

"You should go–"

"I'll just–"

"Right." The door of the bathroom slammed shut behind Hashirama as Madara sat down on a chair against his desk, putting his hand through his hair in frustration, listening to the faint noises of clothes rustling and being thrown on the ground.

'_What are we doing?' _

Madara contemplated how this probably was the worst thing that could've happened right after his clan stabbing him in the back to support Hashirama – the same man whom he was providing clothes to while he changed in his bathroom. He didn't even know what to do with this situation. They picked _him _over their clan leader. Had they all forgotten how, just a year ago, Hashirama had been the one to wage war against them, killing their friends and family? Had they forgotten how the source of all of their grief had been the _Senju clan_? Had they forgotten Izuna's sacrifice, which had been _exactly _to prevent _this _from happening?

They didn't care. It was always about Hashirama. Even Madara couldn't deny that nearly everything he did, everything that happened, was in reaction to or at least in part because of Hashirama. Without him, he wouldn't be the same man. They'd shaped each other so much over the years that a life without the other seemed unimaginable at this point – and yet, it was also something Madara couldn't stand.

"You don't look too happy." He looked up, as he hadn't even noticed the Senju entering the room again. Madara's eyes flitted over the dark blue yukata the other was wearing, and rather grimly he realized that he'd never be able to wear that particular one again without thinking of Hashirama. Perhaps he should consider burning it.

'_There it goes again. Burning my own clothes, just because of _him_?' _He let out a humorless laugh at his own ridiculous thoughts, leaning his head back on the chair as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Madara?"

"Why did you come here?" Hashirama took a few slow, tentative steps towards him while Madara stayed on his chair, unmoving.

"You didn't forget our bet, did you?" This got a reaction out the Uchiha as he finally looked at Hashirama, standing up from his chair. Forgotten? How could he have possibly forgotten something like that?

"I can't talk about this right now."

"I need an answer."

"Then you'll just have to _wait_–"

"Madara!" Hashirama had closed in on him by now, though Madara refused to budge, glaring at him while Hashirama stared back with a deep scowl. "No more stalling." There was a long silence as they stared into each other's eyes, Madara's red blending with Hashirama's black. Hashirama counted Madara's breaths while waiting for a response.

Madara only remembered the faces of his clan members as they proclaimed with disdain that they'd rather side with their old arch enemy than stay loyal to their clan leader, who'd always only had their best interest in mind.

"I don't love you. I'll _never _love you. I despise you. I loathe you. I hate you, I hate everything you stand for; I hate what you turned me into, Hashirama Senju. I hate you for all you are_. I hate you_." There was no more breathing, Hashirama's eyes wide and Madara's narrowed as the words lingered in the air, the venom dripping off them, soaking into Hashirama's ears.

"Don't lie to me." Madara didn't resist as he, completely perplexed by the response, let Hashirama grab his arm and pull him closer. "Don't you dare lie to me."

"I'm not lying. Did you think I'd give into you? Did you think one night would be enough to snare me in your little trap?" Madara snarled, starting to pull back. The grip on his arm painfully tightened.

"It wasn't a trap, it wasn't planned, it wasn't whatever you talked yourself into believing it was!" Hashirama exclaimed in pure frustration, but the more he pulled, the more Madara resisted. "No matter what I… no matter what _we _do, we'll always end up being pulled back together. Fighting it is pointless; you know that as well as I do."

"Don't pretend like you know me better than I do, Senju!" Madara spat, finally jerking his arm free of Hashirama's hand with a furious look. "But of course it always comes back to you, doesn't it? It doesn't matter what I do; you're always better, isn't that right? Always one step ahead!"

"Madara… what… where did this come from?" He turned away, hand leaning on his desk as his nails bore into the wooden surface. Hashirama was completely befuddled by the sudden turn in conversation, not understanding what could've suddenly prompted this inferiority complex.

"They'll choose you to lead them into war. They'll choose you to lead the village. Everyone already knows it." Hashirama was silent as he considered these words, the meaning behind them slowly dawning on him.

"Did… the Uchiha clan…?" He didn't receive an answer, though he didn't need one either. Now, Hashirama was at a loss of what to say. He took a deep breath, then sighed, trying to relax his shoulders. "If that's the decision they made, you'll have to make peace with it." That was evidently not the reaction Madara expected as he turned around to look at Hashirama with a stunned expression. "But you can't hold that against me."

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" Madara spat, gritting his teeth as his anger was only heightened when he saw how calm Hashirama was about all of this. "But of course you'd be fine with this. How long before the Uchiha clan gets crushed under Senju rule?"

"I would never let that happen."

"Bullshit. Your clan will eventually find some excuse to get rid of us–"

"_I _rule the clan. The clan doesn't rule _me_." Hashirama interrupted sharply, and though Madara looked like he wanted to protest, he stayed silent long enough for Hashirama to continue. "Don't you trust me?"

"Why should I?" Madara snorted, looking away to the side. Hashirama approached him, the close proximity forcing Madara to be pushed back against his desk. Hashirama put both of his hands on either of his sides, preventing an escape.

"Have I given you a reason not to?" Madara refused to meet his eyes, so Hashirama grabbed his chin with a finger and a thumb, forcing the Uchiha to face him. "Didn't I tell you before? I would never stab an ally in the back."

"You can't expect me to just go along with this."

"Try."

"I can't–" Hashirama leaned in, pressing his lips to Madara's neck, shutting him up immediately.

"_Try_." he whispered again, feeling Madara trying to move away from him, his entire body having stiffened at the contact. He couldn't help but smile. "Tell me again how much you despise me." he said, moving one hand from the desk to the hem of Madara's shirt, slipping under, caressing the warm skin as his lips moved from Madara's neck to his jaw line.

"Shut… shut up… _stop_."

"Tell me how much you hate me. Tell me how you'll never love me." Hashirama planted another kiss on Madara's chin, then his mouth, his tongue tasting Madara's lips – no further resistance. He was hooked and they both knew it; there was no way Madara could deny him now. Hashirama pulled Madara's shirt up to reveal his stomach and lowered his lips to kiss a trail down the pale abdomen.

"I… h-_hate_… you…." Madara hissed, shuddering when feeling the hot breath on his lower stomach, feeling his erection throbbing in his pants. No matter how much he wanted to fight back, the urge to drown himself in sinful pleasure was far greater than any sense of pride. He'd wanted this for so long in his dreams that he could barely find the heart to try to resist. Hashirama knew this. He knew how much power he held over him and he was _toying _with him, completely unlike the messy night from before. He was taking full advantage of this and Madara was _just letting it happen_.

He wanted to forget and let go. This time, sober. This time, the memories would be vivid and etched into his mind forever. Maybe he wanted that. He didn't know whether he could accept Hashirama being picked over him, but for now, for tonight, he just wanted the sex and the lust and the pleasure. His clan didn't matter, the village didn't matter, the whole world was nothing but a small dot in the back of his mind; all that mattered were Hashirama's hands caressing his skin and Hashirama's lips and Hashirama's kisses and Hashirama, Hashirama,_ Hashirama_.

"I told you not to lie to me." Hashirama murmured, slowly pulling Madara's pants down, but not his shorts. Madara glanced down just for a second, a mixed wave of arousal and reluctance washing through him. The bulge was now clearly visible in his underwear, only begging for release. Hashirama moved agonizingly slow, as if torturing him and it seemed like he was enjoying it at that. Madara cursed him underneath his breath, only receiving a chuckle in return. The Senju then leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss on Madara's covered erection, making him gasp, his hands clinging to the desk behind him as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Stop playing around." Madara groaned, getting increasingly impatient.

"Admit you were lying first." Hashirama responded, his hands grabbing Madara's hips but otherwise not moving. Madara stubbornly pressed his lips tightly together as the Senju stared up at him expectantly. Seeing that Madara hadn't quite cracked yet, Hashirama placed another kiss on his cock, taking his breath away once again.

"_God_– fine, I… I _lied_." Hashirama chuckled, finally pulling the white shorts down, a small sigh of relief escaping Madara's lips. Then he hesitantly glanced down again. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he questioned, doubting Hashirama's experience.

"I have no idea, actually." Hashirama replied casually, Madara scowling and opening his mouth to berate him when Hashirama grabbed his cock with one hand, sticking out his tongue and licking it from its base to the very tip. Madara's toes curled as he leaned back into the desk, a jolt of pleasure rendering him speechless while he bit down on his lip, sucking in a deep breath. Hashirama closed his lips carefully over the head of Madara's cock, not sure of what he was doing, but it seemed that he was on the right path, considering that Madara had momentarily lost his ability to speak. He stared up and watched the Uchiha's facial expression which had contorted into one in complete pleasure while he gently sucked on the tip of Madara's cock, tasting the pre-cum that was already dripping out.

"You're so s… _slow._" Madara moaned, urging him to hurry up as he glared down at the lack of further action. Hashirama started sucking harder now he was sure his teeth weren't accidentally grazing the sensitive skin of the head, leaning further in and slowly taking most of the rest of it into his mouth. "_Fuck_," Madara breathed, the feeling of Hashirama's hot mouth enveloping his cock setting the rest of his body on fire, one hand leaving the desk to grab a handful of Hashirama's hair, pushing him further down. Hashirama grabbed his wrist, halting him as he needed to get used to having Madara in his mouth, his tongue rubbing over the underside of Madara's cock.

He carefully moved his head back, still very mindful of his teeth, then moved back in again, Madara's hips meeting him halfway as pushed them forward, both of his hands in Hashirama's still moist hair, gripping it tightly while the man bobbed his head back and forth, listening to Madara's moans that only grew louder the faster he moved. Madara was completely at his mercy, his groaning only becoming louder as pleasure overtook every part of him, only wanting more and not caring what he needed to do to get to that point. Hashirama looked up at him, watching the lust-glazed look in Madara's eyes, who looked back down at him, the sight of Hashirama sucking on his cock making his knees weak, slouching against the desk, sweating and panting.

"_Teeth_!" Madara hissed, flinching when he felt the unpleasant grazing against his skin. Hashirama's fingers dug themselves in the skin of Madara's hips, halting for a moment. "Don't… don't sto– _ah_, oh _god_," Hashirama sucked even harder this time, eliciting a delightful whimper from Madara that shot straight to his own groin, groaning softly, making Madara only moan even louder. Madara could feel he was close now, thrusting his hips forward, wanting more as Hashirama drove him crazy with his tongue alone, building to his climax. "I… H-Hashirama…" he breathed, head lolling back, his lips parting in a silent gasp, muscles twitching and jolts of pure ecstasy rendering him to nothing but a mindless puddle of pleasure as he came in Hashirama's mouth.

The Senju remained still, figuring swallowing would be easier than spitting it out, ignoring the salty, unpleasant flavor of Madara's cum as he swallowed it all, licking Madara's cock clean and slowly pulling back, wiping his lips. His tongue was tired and his jaw a little sore, but seeing Madara, who looked like he was about to collapse on the spot, sweat rolling down his face and a red blush covering cheeks, made it more than worth the effort. He stood up from the ground, leaning over Madara and brushing the stray locks out of his face, one hand still resting on his hip. Madara scowled and shot him an annoyed, but questioning look as he slowly recovered from his heavy orgasm. Hashirama merely smirked.

"Get on the bed."

* * *

**Teasing is awesome.**

**Should I continue the next chapter or leave you hanging, I wonder? Hmm. Decisions, decisions.**

**That lemon near the end was totally not in the script, by the way. I just threw it in there because why not. **

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I promise the next update won't take as long!**

**See ya later!**


	23. Capitulation

**Capitulation**

"Did it hurt a lot, last time?"

"Don't ask such embarrassing questions…."

Kisses down his spine sent a tingling down his loins, his curtains closed, right cheek pressed against his pillow, his body reveling in the feel of two rough hands exploring his shuddering skin. Hours and hours of time was left for them, but he knew it would still feel too short.

"You should've let me ease you into it–" Madara sucked in a sharp breath, his flaccid cock starting to harden again when feeling a wet finger being placed against his entrance, pushed in rather forcefully. His muscles tensed at the sudden intrusion, only making it ache more when a second finger was added, and made him groan in uncomfortable pain as he clutched at the sheets on his futon. Hashirama swallowed audibly, dazed at how hot and tight Madara felt around his fingers as he tried stretching him out more.

He very vaguely remembered their first time together, regretting he didn't recall it more clearly as he'd been completely wasted at that time – though he intended to make up for it now. Completely sober and savoring every fleeting moment, trying to carve even the softest whimpers and tiniest movements into his memory so he'd be sure to never forget the day he'd brought Madara Uchiha down on his knees; not through weapons nor violence, but through sheer pleasure.

"You c-call _this _easing me into it?!" Madara then hissed at him, Hashirama realizing he was probably being a little too eager and slowed down. "Forget about th-_ oh god_!" His back suddenly arched, his moans muffled by his pillow when Hashirama finally hit his most sensitive spot.

"Sorry," the Senju muttered with an unapologetic smirk, slowly pulling his fingers out. Madara growled in protest, wanting to feel more of that dizzying bliss that turned his brain to a puddle of mush. Hashirama shifted a little, leaning over him and staring down at the man who had his fingers clutching the sheets, his breath shallow and his shoulders tense as he lay on his stomach. His eyes flitted over Madara's strong back, noticing the old battle wounds adorning his skin. He traced the scars with his fingers, recalling every battle that had resulted in one.

These scars, they were all his. Every single one, his permanent marks on Madara's body. He regretted marring such beautiful skin, but somewhere he felt pleased, knowing no other would ever be able to touch the Uchiha like this, mark him like this; he almost felt like this body impatiently writhing beneath him _belonged _to him. It was frightening how he could've had such possessive thoughts – or rather, how one person could've twisted him into having them. Twisted, and broken and shattered and re-arranged into a love-dazed obsession.

He brushed Madara's hair out of the way, leaning down to lovingly kiss the base of his neck, setting fire to his skin. Madara's tense shoulders eased a little as he half-heartedly turned his head to glare up at Hashirama, whose mind was swallowed whole by a thick fog of lust.

"Stop giving me that look."

"What look might that be?"

"As if you…." Madara couldn't bring himself to say it, the words barely hanging on his lips but refusing to leave. Hashirama stayed silent, wondering whether Madara had finally noticed. The Uchiha eventually looked away, glaring back down at his by now sweat covered pillow. The temperature in the room had risen drastically, Hashirama's smothering body heat overpowering his own, mixed with the sweet scent of sex – the world beyond didn't even exist anymore. There was only them and this room, only their kisses and touches and looks; everything outside of that was a low buzz in the back of Madara's mind, shut out in its entirety for his own selfishness and need for a wanton night of self-indulgence and mindless desire.

Hashirama, wanting – thinking – the exact same thing, leaned on his hands, both placed next to Madara's sides, who had his face pressed in his pillow, his legs spread just enough to let Hashirama move into him. He cringed at the pain shooting through his lower back when he finally felt the other's throbbing cock slowly moving past his ring of muscles, which clenched painfully as Madara's entire body tensed. Hashirama on his part had forgotten entirely how to breathe, trying not to cum, Madara feeling so hot and so tight around him that he would've loved to mindlessly fuck the Uchiha into his futon right then and there.

He brought his lips to Madara's ear, while he put one hand on top of one of the other's, fingers interlinking as he whispered three little words that sent Madara's heart into a pounding frenzy.

"Sh-shut up!" Madara snapped at him, jerking his hand out of Hashirama's grip as he buried his face into the pillow, his chest tightening with an intense, aching warmth, blending in with a mixture of pain and pleasure – his thoughts completely aimless as his body couldn't figure out which feeling overpowered the others. He cringed when Hashirama slowly pushed deeper into him as he groaned in his ear – Madara afraid he might lose all his sanity at any second now as he barely bit back another moan, hissing through his teeth while he tried to get used to Hashirama's full length stretching him out even more.

"Madara–"

"_No_," he whispered, nails almost ripping the sheets apart. "Don't… don't say it. I can't–" They both knew what he wanted – loveless sex, temporary gratification with no long-term consequences. Anything more than that terrified him, and yet Hashirama refused to dance to his tune, precisely _because _he knew this was what would be ideal for Madara; to get through a night and then turn to look away when the sun rose again the next morning, pretending like nothing had happened, just like last time.

Hashirama couldn't stand it, and so he took Madara's hand in his own again, squeezing it gently as he decided on a slow pace – something that might end up driving the _both _of them insane. His hair draped over Madara's left shoulder as he moved with complete control, gently hitting that sensitive spot again and again, which made his lover lose his mind for just a split-second every time he did. Even when a needy moan escaped the Uchiha's lips, Hashirama forced himself to stay at the same, agonizingly slow pace, and before soon, Madara was starting to squirm.

"Stop messing around!" he growled breathlessly, clearly frustrated that he was being teased so cruelly. Hashirama bit down on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he then hit the prostate with a sudden, firm thrust, Madara letting out a loud cry as he tensed for just a second, though the pain was barely noticeable under the sheer bliss that overpowered his body. The tingling jolts of pleasure wiped his mind of all thoughts as he relished the moment – quick to wanting even _more_. Hashirama took a deep breath, slowing down again right after that.

Part of him just wanted to give up and pound into him ruthlessly – until Madara's voice grew hoarse from screaming Hashirama's name – but he knew if he did that, he'd be giving into Madara and his denial. Still, it was damned hard not to give in; when Madara moved his hips back into him, Hashirama was pushed to the verge of losing it completely – but he managed to hold back, bringing his lips closer to Madara's ear before he was overtaken completely by carnal desire, before the words escaped him. Right now was the perfect time; right now Madara was the most vulnerable he'd ever be.

"_I love you_."

Madara's body tensed just a little – not entirely as Hashirama immediately started picking up the pace – but for a few seconds, he remained silent, just shaking his head, his body trembling mildly, caught between absolute delight and complete dread. He couldn't stand it – he didn't know what to do with it. The only other person ever to have told him those words was buried six feet deep after Madara had taken away his light and had then sent him off to his death – the thought of replacing him was unthinkable. But _was _he replacing him?

This glowing warmth in his chest, it wasn't quite the same feeling. It was something more intense, something that had made him do and think and say the most reckless and idiotic things, that had turned him into a complete madman – at Hashirama's mercy. So completely vulnerable, and yet this insane trust that came from that warmth in his chest soothed him, whereas logically, he should've been expecting Hashirama to stab him in the back at any moment. But no, all the Senju leader had ever done was make him feel euphoric. That's all. The misery and stress came from his own self-loathing.

Could he, truly, admit defeat?

"Nnh-no, _no_, shut up, _shut up_!"

"And you love me–"

"_I hate you_!"

"You love me." Hashirama whispered tenderly, wrapping an arm around his waist, taking Madara's erection into his hand, starting to stroke it as Madara shuddered. Torture was the only thing that he could describe it as, merciless torture; his mind in chaos with his body unwilling to respond, completely enraptured by Hashirama's movements. And now the hand pumping his length had him trapped in a haze, unable to do anything more but groan half-hearted protests. He was at the end of his rope.

"_Hashirama," _he moaned longingly, sliding his hips back again to meet Hashirama's thrusts, who lost all of his breath, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he was panting heavily now, his body starting to ache for a climax.

"Y… you love me, don't you?"

"You _bastard_," Madara hissed, breathing a moan right after when he felt a thumb rubbing the slit of his cock. "S-shit, yes, just- _mmmh_-" Hashirama released his erection, stopping his thrusts and placing both hands on Madara's hips as he straightened his back, catching his breath for a moment – and before Madara could even fully realize what he'd just admitted to, he slammed into the man's prostrate, pulling his hips back to meet with his violent thrust. Madara cried out, louder than last time, leaving his lungs empty as Hashirama continued his brutal pace, fueled by pure instinct, his mind gone as he could only think of how Madara was moaning and whimpering and writhing – _finally _letting go of himself completely.

Madara on his end couldn't form a single coherent thought, shocks of pure ecstasy unrelenting as they set his body on fire; it didn't take very long for him to reach his climax with a soundless gasp – rips in the sheets. Hashirama shuddered at the feel of Madara's muscles tensing, all his senses stopped working as he too reached his limit soon after, whispering, "_I love you, I love you–" _knowing he'd get no more chances after this. If he hadn't made Madara his tonight, it could only result into an irreparably broken bond bearing consequences that neither of them wanted to face.

Madara was exhausted as he laid on his futon, right cheek on the pillow and entirely silent, only his heavy breathing audible as he felt Hashirama lie down next to him, on his left.

He stared at the rips he'd made in his sheets. A finger idly traced the bruises that were starting to form on his hips. For the first time in years, his mind was at peace.

He'd been defeated.

* * *

Tōka knew he wouldn't return for most of the night after he'd been gone for over two hours. It was a pity; she hadn't gotten a chance to tell Hashirama she'd volunteered to be one of the people sent off to Sunagakure as a messenger, and negotiator, for their village. The odds of success were very low, but she still had a higher chance than most – besides, she hadn't wanted him to needlessly worry about her when he could be enjoying himself (which he undoubtedly was, though she'd prefer not to linger on that thought too much). She'd probably need a good night's sleep since they were leaving quite early in the morning, too.

She was seated at the low table in her living room, a brush in her hand, black ink staining the paper with words while she wrote a quick note – in case he did decide to worry when he came back, or, in case something _did _go wrong and she wouldn't be able to return. Those men, both him and Tobirama, were too spirited and reckless for their own good. Careless dreamers she had to mother over, making her feel much older than she actually was. The lit candle beside her gave enough light for her to keep writing even when the sun had already gone down and everything else had been swallowed by the night.

A knock on her door surprised her.

"Come in."

When the door silently slid open, her visitor surprised her even more.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry for swinging by unannounced– er, did I catch you at a bad time?" Mito looked up questioningly from the bow she'd just made, staring at the brush Tōka held in her hands.

"Not at all. Do take a seat." The older woman responded in her own stern manner, gesturing to the spot right across from her, on the opposite side of the table. The Uzumaki did so without another word, shooting a curious glance at the letter Tōka was writing, but didn't look at it again when noticing the other's blank stare.

"W-well, the reason I'm here is because I heard you… you volunteered, to head to Suna?" It irked Tōka how she spoke of it as if it were a death sentence. Maybe it was, but even so, if this _was _to be her last day in Konoha, she'd rather not be reminded of her impending doom and spend her final moments in peace.

"Yes, I did. What of it?" Tōka replied curtly, continuing her letter while Mito thought of a fitting response. They hadn't talked much before – the only thing they had in common was having Hashirama as a mutual friend.

"I was just wondering whether it would be okay for you to leave without asking Hashirama permission beforehand. You didn't tell him, did you?" the redhead eventually inquired politely, hands folded neatly on her lap, though the discomfort in her body language was clearly visible; she was a little fidgety. Tōka's brush froze mid-movement, and the holder sighed, putting it down as she looked up at her guest with mild impatience.

"Why would matters within the Senju clan concern _you_, lady _Uzumaki_?" she asked irritably. Tōka didn't quite understand why Hashirama would have an interest in this girl – she seemed awkward, ditzy, shy and largely ignorant of politics and things that actually mattered in life. Mito pursed her lips for a moment.

"Miss Tōka, I see you're eager for me to make my departure, so I shall be frank." The sudden change in tone flustered the Senju for a moment. "I owe your lord a debt of gratitude, and if I can repay this by preventing one of his precious friends from getting herself killed in a pointless mission, I'd be more than happy to do so. I ask of you to please reconsider your decision to leave to Suna only to act as a sacrificial sheep for the village." Tōka scowled, glaring down at the redhead who seemed calmer than before, and met her glare head on.

"Oh? Who are you to make such a request?" she asked coldly, though Mito didn't seem fazed.

"A concerned friend. That is all. If you truly wish to leave, I will not – and cannot – stop you." the Uzumaki responded, slightly bowing her head. "And if you are truly set on going, then… could you at least consider telling me why you are so determined?" Tōka narrowed her eyes.

"Much like you, there's a debt I need to settle – in Suna. But I can assure you, mine is not a debt of gratitude." She paused, staring down at the letter in front of her, the ink having dried already. "That's all you need to know."

"Revenge, then? Is that the only reason?" Mito asked softly, feeling this was a touchy subject.

"Is there a better reason?" Tōka scoffed, picking up her brush again and finishing what she'd started.

"What do you suppose Hashirama would think, if he heard you died for vengeance?"

A hand slammed on the table, Mito startled as Tōka had truly lost her temper, and even if it had been for just a second, normally, the woman was known for keeping her emotions completely in control. Mito wondered what had happened in her past, to make her this angry as she watched the others hands, which were on the table, ball into fists for a few seconds, then slowly relax.

"Wouldn't you at least want to die for a just cause? Why would you throw your life away for revenge?" Mito continued to ask carefully, not wanting to be caught up in the tense silence.

"A just cause?" Tōka repeated slowly, raising her eyebrows as she looked up at the Uzumaki. "Are you saying there's a difference between justice and vengeance?"

"Of course there is." Mito immediately answered with a puzzled frown.

"Is there? I wonder about that." Tōka murmured contemplatively, having calmed down entirely, though the cold tone in her voice remained. "Where do you draw the line between one and the other? In this world, there is no omniscient judge to make the distinction for us. It's up to us to do so; it's up to us to decide the rules of the game."

Tōka leaned over the table, staring Mito right in the eyes, while the young lady listened attentively, though also with concern.

"Let me tell you the rules of the game, little girl: it's kill or be killed. Take your retribution or die a coward. Do whatever it takes to survive or get trampled on. Justice is nothing more than vengeance masquerading as righteousness. Those are the rules, and everyone plays the game. You, me – even Hashirama. The difference between you and us, is like the difference between justice and vengeance. We don't lie to ourselves about playing the game. We don't masquerade as righteous people."

Mito was silent, realizing she would never get through the bitter mindset Tōka had created for herself; and she couldn't entirely blame her either. The world was indeed cruel, and nothing she could say (nor was she naïve enough to argue) would persuade Tōka from choosing a different path. This was what she'd decided. Mito would have to respect her decision, though she certainly wasn't looking forward to seeing Hashirama's reaction to this.

So she stood up, bowing deeply.

"I understand."

And she turned around, and left the room without another word, leaving Tōka alone in the faint candlelight, sliding the door shut behind her.

* * *

**There you have it! I'm pretty pleased with this chapter (shocker) despite how short it was, but hey. You got your damn lemon so… it's either lemons or chapter length!**

**Lemons, lemons, lemons. I love reading them but I'm not sure about writing them.**

**Thanks for all the fantastic reviews last time! More desperation-mail! Please my inner sadist!**

**Bye-bye. **


	24. War

**War**

The minute he moved, the other looked up at him questioningly, while he slipped away from his arms, getting up from the futon and haphazardly wrapping his yukata around himself, almost hastily putting it on.

"I'm going to… clean up." Madara muttered with a hoarse voice, walking to his closet to pull out another towel without looking at his lover – who had his elbow on his pillow, leaning his head on his hand as he watched him. "I expect you to have left before I get out." At this Hashirama sat upright with a deep frown.

"We should–"

"For god's sake, Senju! I know you're having your asinine '_let's talk about our __**feelings**__ ' _moment again, but I'm not in the mood." Madara paused for a moment as he stared down at his towel. "And now you ruined the afterglow. Idiot."

"I didn't want to talk about _our_ feelings, I wanted to talk about _yours_." Hashirama pointed out smoothly as he laid back down on the futon, stretching comfortably while Madara nearly stomped towards the bathroom with a pessimistic look on his face.

"Well, that makes it even worse, doesn't it?" the Uchiha snarled grumpily while pulling the door to the bathroom open. Hashirama peeked at him, and smirked.

"I love you." The bathroom door shut behind Madara with a slam strong enough to make the walls shake. "…You could've at least _replied_. This is the fifth time I've said it already." Hashirama huffed, turning on his side, not all that eager to leave the other's bed. It wasn't even morning yet, after all.

"_Shut up and get out of my house_." Madara's muted voice called from the bathroom.

"Not until we talk about your feelings."

"_There's nothing to talk about_."

"Are you really going to ignore the elephant in the room here?"

"_There's no elephant in the room. There's only an insufferable jackass who doesn't want to leave the house."_

"Well, in your defense, why would you want leave your own house?"

"_I swear to god, Hashirama–"_

"Alright, calm down, I'll stop joking now." he quickly amended before he went too far and _really _pissed Madara off. "You can't really expect me to go through this and have you run away from it every time. I'll need a reply sooner or later." he then continued while he got up off the futon and walked over to his clothes which he'd put (or rather, just dropped) near the window to dry. They were still moist but he wasn't about to walk back home with a yukata that had the Uchiha symbol on his back – he could only imagine the horrified look on Tobirama's face, and while hilarious, it would also be completely moronic.

"_I don't have a reply." _Madara finally answered while Hashirama was putting his clothes on. Neither of them said anything for a while as it seemed they'd reached a stalemate. Madara was persisting in keeping his mouth shut and Hashirama didn't know what else he could say or do to make him confess – which only made him completely frustrated. After he was done dressing he walked to the door of the bathroom, leaning against the wall right next to it.

"Why is it so hard for you to say it?" he asked softly, though loud enough for Madara to hear him.

"_It's not something I take lightly_."

"Are you saying I do?"

"_So it would seem like to me_–"

"Fine. I'll announce it to the whole village if that's what it takes for you to believe me." Hashirama decided, moving to stand right in front of the door, which then immediately opened, Madara staring at him with an incredulous look.

"You're lying; there's no way you would do that." the Uchiha challenged, watching his facial expression closely, searching for any hint that would prove him right.

"I'll do it." Hashirama stated with such a fierce look of determination that, even though it would've been obvious to see he was bluffing otherwise, made Madara doubt his own judgment.

"You'd destroy us _both_ to prove yourself?"

'_There's no way he would do that. Though he _is_ a love-struck idiot, even he wouldn't go that far… would he? Am I just underestimating his resolve again? He has pulled off insane feats in the past before just for the sake of making a point… shit, I can't tell whether he's lying.' _

"It's not something I take lightly_." _Hashirama shot Madara's own words right back at him, his expression calm and resolute.

"You're insane." was Madara's only response.

"And you're out of the bathroom, but I'm still here. Now what will you do?" Hashirama questioned him, his arms folded as he watched the emotions written in Madara's eyes fluctuate between anger and doubt, then eventually sighing.

"I can't say it." he said softly, not meeting Hashirama's eyes. "We can't last, so I can't say it. When that point comes where you and I… where we break apart, it would have been rendered meaningless."

"Madara, no matter what happens in the future, whatever you feel now isn't meaningless in the least."

"How can you say that when you know we're headed for a cliff, Hashirama?! _I can't say it. _If it was true, then I wouldn't let us break apart – but that's inevitable. There's no way for us to stay together, and I can't say it knowing that's what will happen in the end. Nothing you or I can do will pre–" Hashirama cut Madara off by grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling the Uchiha to him, wrapping his arms around him which left Madara in a stunned silence.

"I understand it now. If you truly loved me, you wouldn't let anything else get in the way, but you're so _convinced _that this won't work, that it would just hurt too much to say it knowing it'll be futile in the end, is that it?" Madara stiffened in his embrace, his chin gently resting on Hashirama's shoulder. Hashirama, on his part, wondered why Madara had turned out so afraid to commit himself to someone, when he remembered. "Is this because of… what happened, with Izuna?" Madara flinched, briefly trying to pull away, but Hashirama didn't let him get away, patiently waiting for a response. It felt like days passed as they stood there, chest to chest, pressed against each other so firmly they could feel each other's heartbeats.

"I shouldn't have let him… he deserved better than me." Madara whispered, Hashirama feeling his hands grasp at his clothes on his back. "If I wasn't such a worthless brother…." His breathing turned heavy, and Hashirama stayed perfectly silent, knowing this could very well be the first and last time the Uchiha opened up to him so completely. "Did you know, on the night he decided to give me his eyes, I was such a pathetic wreck that he said he loved me to try to comfort me? I'm glad that I didn't reply. If I had replied… I don't know how I would've been able to live with myself, knowing how it turned out."

"Even if you didn't reply, you knew you loved him too, and I'm sure he did as well." Hashirama murmured soothingly, feeling Madara relax just a little. "I won't force you to say it if you don't want to, but I can't forgive your pessimistic attitude." At this, the Uchiha pulled back enough to look Hashirama in the eyes with a deep scowl – Hashirama faintly realizing he'd been staring at Madara's regular, dark eyes the entire night. He hadn't activated his Sharingan even once.

"We can't last."

"We'll last longer than you think."

"I can't stay second place forever, Hashirama!" Madara snarled in frustration, pulling away entirely and breaking the embrace as he took a step back, his back now pressed against the bathroom door.

"Second place?"

"Second place to you, and second place to Konoha; I won't tolerate it." Madara clarified with an intense glare, even more piercing than any glare he could've delivered with his Sharingan. "Everyone is waiting for you to take lead of the village, because they all worship the ground you walk on. Knowing that, knowing I won't be able to handle it, how can you say that we'll last?!"

"Second place to _Konoha_?" Hashirama repeated, having ignored everything else Madara had just stated. The Uchiha blinked, a little thrown off that he'd decided to just focus on that part.

"I asked you back then, didn't I? If I left the village, you'd pick Konoha over me."

"It's not that simple, and you know it isn't. If I'm to lead the village then I have no choice but to put my personal feelings aside; but you'll never be second place until you force me to make that decision, Madara."

"So I'll be the villain in this story." Madara responded, narrowing his eyes. "I would be the one having forced your hand, and you would be the hero torn between his village and his friend, is that it? Tch, if only the rest of the village knew how manipulative you truly are, Hashirama." The Senju clenched his jaw, growing aggravated, though he couldn't exactly deny the accusation either, and decided to steer away from the subject.

"Look, it doesn't matter right now–"

"Yes, it _does._"

"It'll only matter if it actually happens, but none of that is set in stone; we can still _change _it! I can keep us together, but only if you help me." They stared at each other as several seconds ticked by, when Hashirama relented first, looking away and walking to the windows, peeking outside. He wouldn't get an answer out of Madara now. The man probably needed some time to think it over, which could be problematic. A possible war was nearing and their time was running out, after all. It wasn't soon before Hashirama would, most likely, be chosen as Konoha's leader.

"You should leave before sunrise." Madara stated indifferently, though his eyes betrayed his frustration.

"I guess I'll get out of your hair now." Hashirama decided with a sigh, glancing once at his reluctant lover before walking towards the door to the living room. As he slid it open, he changed his mind, looking at Madara again. "Could you come over here for a second?" The Uchiha raised his eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Just come over here." Madara glowered at him with a stubborn look on his face, not planning on moving any time soon. "Fine. I just wanted to show you that your cat ripped up one of your scrolls."

"She did _what_?!" he hissed angrily, immediately walking over to the door, standing beside Hashirama and peering into the living room. Hashirama smirked, and when Madara turned to him to ask why the hell he lied about that, he put a hand on Madara's cheek and kissed him tenderly, gentle enough to make Madara's insides melt on the spot.

"I didn't want to leave on a sour note. So, I'll see you around." Hashirama murmured, giving him another quick peck on the lips before slipping out the bedroom, swiftly making his way through the living room and to the front door, putting his still-muddy boots on by the time Madara finally woke up from his trance.

"You sly son of a–"

The front door shut with Hashirama's laughter, leaving the Uchiha alone in his house, save for the cat sleeping on a comfortable cushion in the corner of the room. Madara slid his bedroom door shut behind him as he sat down against his low table in the dark. Hashirama's absence became clearly palpable after a few minutes of silence.

His house felt cold.

* * *

"She left."

There was no sadness in his voice as he polished his katana, an old warrior greeting his friend again while he sat in front of the small candlelight illuminating the room – already preparing for a battle that hadn't even arrived yet. The sun's first rays of the day came streaming in through the windows while his brother watched from the shadows of the room, a certain emptiness surrounding his otherwise warm presence.

"She decided this all on her own?" the other eventually asked, the grating sound of the katana's blade being polished halting for a few moments. Tobirama looked up at his brother, whose face betrayed no emotion other than calm.

"Yes. Mito went to try and talk her out of it. Naturally, she failed." Hashirama finally moved, going to sit across his brother who'd carefully sheathed the katana again.

"She should've asked me."

"She knew you'd say no."

"That's why she should've asked me. She's throwing away her life."

"If this is what she wants to do–"

"It's selfish and utterly pointless." Hashirama cut in harshly. "She's not going there for the mission. She's going there to kill the man who murdered her parents – he's part of the clan that founded Suna, after all. She's also assuming the mission will end in failure either way." Tobirama remained silent while he observed his brother, who'd contained his anger at the situation, though it was seeping out through his eyes little by little. Tobirama couldn't say he wasn't angry either; this had been a completely reckless move on Tōka's part, but even so, he had to believe she was coming back alive. She'd never let them down before, and even though the odds were stacked against her, they couldn't do anything but believe in her for the time being.

"There's nothing we can do about it now." Tobirama muttered, putting his katana down beside him as he looked up at his brother. "Where did you go all night, anyway?"

"A visit." Hashirama replied, the frustration instantly clearing from his face as he grinned widely. Tobirama sighed.

"…Do I want to know?"

"No, you don't."

* * *

The next few days, Madara and Hashirama continued their public front of odd friendship-rivalry and fooled everyone around them (save for the two who knew what was actually going on). All the while, they had no further meetings in private. Madara didn't know where to go now, after they'd semi-established their relationship as something romantic, even though it was still somewhat one-sided what with Madara's reluctance to speak of the topic, but for a while, Hashirama decided not to force the issue and give him some time to deal with it. He had his own problems to worry about as well, after all.

The waiting was excruciating. In any other situation, it was comical how he was worrying over Tōka much like a father would worry about his daughter, while she was actually several years older than him. Tobirama insisted to believe in her abilities and see what would come of it, but Hashirama could barely sleep at night. She was as good as family to him, and they'd known each other since childhood. He knew he should mentally prepare for the worst, but it ached all the same.

In the end, only one of the group of three they'd sent to Suna returned.

It wasn't Tōka.

"S-she… even though we w-were surrounded… she was s-so focused on that one man… sh-she went down first, I-I barely es-escaped." the Sarutobi clansman was coughing up blood, medics trying to treat his wounds though it was futile; he'd been poisoned and by the time the antidote would be made it would already be too late. At least, they could find comfort in the fact that she didn't have to suffer like this poor soul who was nearly choking on his blood, the poison burning his veins.

As Hashirama left the room, he saw Tobirama waiting for him in the hallway; his arms typically folded as he was leaning against the wall across the door. Their eyes met for a split-second and words weren't needed. The younger Senju glared down at the ground, fingers painfully gripping his arms while he gritted his teeth. Hashirama didn't speak to him as he left. People who passed him by were flustered by how relaxed his features were, as if the death of his closest adviser hadn't affected him at all.

Mito, who'd been waiting outside of the hospital, looked up when he came outside. When she saw his face, she too was flustered like all the others as she approached him; not by how calm his expression was, but by the storm hiding in his eyes.

"Hashirama–"

"We'll go to war." Mito bit down on her lower lip, wishing there was something she could do for him. As it was, he was unreachable. "By the end of this week, we'll go to war."

* * *

**So, it was a short chapter, but a quick update! You have no right to complain, haha!**

**I kind of thought the end was near, and it is, but not as near as I thought… unless I decide to make this war short and basically play it off as Hashirama roflstomping on Suna. Not sure what would be the most fun to write. **

**Anyhooooooooow, thanks for all the awesome reviews; they make my days a lot brighter! See ya later!**


	25. Happiness

**Happiness**

"_By the time you're reading this I'll probably be already gone. That's fine. I never liked emotional goodbyes. _

_You're angry with me. I know what I did was reckless and selfish, but there was no other way my story could end. You know what that coward hiding in Suna did to my parents , and you know I couldn't leave that behind me._

_If you're wondering why I didn't take any action before, I must admit, it's because I felt like you still needed me. I guess somewhere I still believed you were that stupid kid from ten years ago who never knew when to keep his mouth shut and relied on me or Tobirama to get him out of trouble. _

_But I was wrong. You've changed, and only for the better. I'm proud of you. _

_I think Mito will do well to keep you on your toes. I didn't think much of her before, but after a little chat, I can tell she really cares about you. She's a lot fiercer than she lets on. _

_As for _him_, I'm not sure where you think this will end up, and I sincerely hope it'll work out, but you're walking on eggshells and I fear for the worst. Prove me wrong, Hashirama. You deserve to find happiness. _

_You're a fine leader to our clan, and I know without a doubt you'll make a fine leader to Konoha. I'm honored I had the privilege to call you my friend, and I hope you can forgive me for throwing my life away like this, but if I didn't do this I'd never be able to rest in peace._

_Now, if you'd allow a foolish woman to make her last wish, I'd be eternally grateful. _

_I don't want any child to see what I've – what we've – seen. I don't want them to cry over the mutilated corpses of their parents, the graves of their siblings and loved ones, only to be berated for showing tears. I know this is a lot to ask, but you – you're the pillar that holds Konoha. If you could make things better for the younger generation in any way you can, that would be enough for me. If you could at least try, that would be enough. Please._

_I'm sorry._

_T__ōka."_

* * *

"She wrote me a letter." Mito turned her cup of hot tea around in her hands, staring down at the steam rising up from the dark liquid though she did not feel the urge to sip from it yet. "She wrote Hashirama one too, but he didn't let me see it." She heard the resentment in his voice and glanced up at the deep scowl he was wearing on his face, red eyes fixed to staring at something outside through the window.

"It must've been personal." Mito said softly, remembering she did see Tōka writing something when she'd visited the woman. It was almost as if she'd written her own death down; sealed her fate and been completely content with that. It was frustrating to her. Mito wished she could've told Tōka that it didn't have to be that way, that this "fate" of death she'd burdened herself with could be changed. Mito had once thought the same way. She'd once believed that there was no greater importance than the clan and that that would be her fate. She wished she could've explained to Tōka, that destiny didn't control people, but people controlled their destiny. But she'd known, the moment she'd looked into Tōka's eyes, that there was nothing she could've said then and there that would've convinced her otherwise.

Still, this was no way for people live; constantly sealing themselves away to a certain purpose, good or bad.

"What do you think will happen, after the war?" Mito asked, Tobirama's gaze shifting back to her. The tea-shop was quiet like it always seemed to be, and a little more empty than usual.

"After the war, we need to keep an eye on Madara." She was quiet for a moment.

"You don't think he'll be able to handle–"

"No, I don't. For now, we have a common enemy, but once it's time to establish who's going to call the shots… I can't see him being too happy with my brother being chosen over him." Mito slowly raised her cup to her lips, blowing softly over the tea to cool it down before she took a small sip. Tasteless.

"It'll work out in the end." she replied softly, putting the cup down and settling her hands on her lap. Tobirama stared at her skeptically, elbows on the table with his arms folded while his own cup remained untouched in front of him.

"How do you know that?" he questioned, Mito's smile only puzzling him even more.

"Madara will yield, Hashirama will force him to yield, or Konoha will be torn apart. It'll work itself out in the end." Tobirama leaned back into his seat, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"That's a strangely apathetic approach you have to things, lady Mito."

"These matters are beyond my control. All I can offer are my words. If I were to meddle from now on, I would only be in the way." She shifted her gaze to two rather young, boisterous boys walking into the tea shop, one undoubtedly a Hyūga while the other was not. A future yet unwritten, for those two. They would have the chance to go through life without being torn apart from each other by their own kin. Would they even know, when they were older, who they had to thank for it?

Mito would've preferred not to see Konoha facing such dark prospects – the village that had astonished her, that had seemed like a fairy tale, that had blinded her with its light upon her first arrival. She wanted to protect this paradise born from the fantasies of foolish dreamers; and yet, she was not foolish enough herself, to believe that she could make the difference. The struggle between the founders of this newborn patch of hope, had depths of such history and pain and love that she dared not to intervene.

"You've known the both of them longer than I have; you know what history they share with each other. That bond they have, is the strongest thread I've ever seen, and yet, so… fragile. The gentlest tug on the string would be enough to make it snap." she continued. At Tobirama's notable silence, she looked back at him, and was puzzled by the surprised look he had on his face. "Did… did I say something wrong?" He quickly shook his head.

"No, not at all. I just didn't expect you… well, you're a different person than I imagined." She raised her eyebrows and he sighed. "No offense, but I figured you were just a pretty face with a head as empty as that of a doll."

"None taken. Well, you are certainly every bit as blunt as I imagined you to be." Mito responded, not at all bothered by that. More often than not, people's preconceptions of her worked to her advantage anyway. "But thank you for the compliment." He gave her a puzzled look. "You did say I have a pretty face, didn't you?"

"Ah. Well, er, you're welcome, I suppose." he muttered awkwardly, avoiding eye contact by staring through the window, shifting in his seat to sit up more straightly. Mito was rather amused by this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." she said casually, not meaning a word of it.

"I'm not… _uncomfortable_. Just… thrown off." he huffed, giving her an annoyed glance. She chuckled and he sighed with a slight blush, standing up.

"Leaving so soon? But we were just having a little fun."

"Only _you _were having fun by mocking me."

"Mocking you? I would do no such thing, my lord." Mito replied smoothly, a small smirk playing on her lips which Tobirama did not miss. "What a surprise. I remember your brother telling me how much you prided yourself in being able to _woo _the opposite sex. Or is this part of the act?" Tobirama narrowed his eyes.

"He told you that?" There was a short silence. "He didn't tell you that."

"No, but since you didn't bother denying it, I'm assuming it's true either way."

"You're a wolf in sheep's clothing, lady Mito." She chuckled, leaning her head on her hand with an amused smile.

"Would that make you my prey, I wonder?"

* * *

He found him sitting against a tree near the training grounds, glaring down at a piece of paper he held in his hands. Madara stayed at a distance for a while, waiting for Hashirama to notice him. When the man finally looked up, Madara approached him, staring down curiously at the paper. They hadn't really spoken for a few days, but after Madara had heard that Tōka had been killed, he hadn't been able to resist the urge to see how Hashirama was doing. Surprisingly enough, though the man did seem to be sulking somewhat, he looked fine otherwise; at first glance, anyhow.

He took the paper out of Hashirama's hands, seeing that it was a letter. The Senju remained silent while the other skimmed it through. He'd read it over seven times now, and he still couldn't think of anything meaningful. These had been Tōka's last words. That's all that echoed through his mind. _Tōka's last words._

"The living shouldn't be burdened with the will of the dead." Hashirama looked up at Madara who handed him the letter back, sitting down beside him with complete nonchalance, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the tree. Hashirama put the letter away.

"You're right. They should be elevated by it." he finally replied, and received a cynical look in return.

"You think that is possible, in a world like ours?"

"It is. Tōka didn't leave me a burden to carry. It only strengthened my resolve."

"But she didn't just leave her will behind." Madara pointed out, looking over at him intently. Hashirama frowned and avoided his gaze, staring down at the grass in front of him. "I can tell you're upset. You want payback."

"That's not it. Suna is a threat to Konoha."

"Konoha is irrelevant – _you _want payback." Madara repeated sharply. "You can talk about your ideals all you want, but the fact remains that she's dead, and all that leaves you with is anger and hatred."

"Madara–"

"How can you say the will of the dead strengthen your resolve, when all it really does is make you crave for revenge?" he continued, ignoring the aggravated tone of Hashirama's voice.

"It's not like that!" he finally snapped, not in the mood to deal with Madara's pessimism. "It doesn't matter what I want. It's what I act on, and I'm only doing this for Konoha's sake. I gain nothing by holding grudges."

"Tch. How _noble _of you." Madara sneered sardonically, standing up. "Get up. Let's have a match." he stated, almost ordering Hashirama around. "You want to vent, don't you?" the Uchiha said upon seeing Hashirama's scowl, already starting to walk towards the open field. After a few seconds, Hashirama decided to follow him anyway, figuring it would be better than sitting around and brooding by himself.

It had been a while since they last had a friendly spar, yet when it started, they fall back into the routine with such ease it felt like their last battle had been just yesterday. Hashirama tried to hold back at first; though it was taijutsu only, he still didn't want to completely wreck the meadow.

One missed punch easily led to a giant hole in the ground – one that, had Madara not dodged it, would've broken at least a few ribs. While Hashirama tried to hold back in the beginning, Madara had no such reservations at all – though that changed when the Uchiha actually landed a punch strong enough that busted Hashirama's lip.

"What's wrong? It seems I'm winning." Madara taunted him while Hashirama wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You'll regret saying that soon enough."

Hashirama threw himself in the fight far more aggressively when they resumed, pushing Madara on the defense as he could not afford to be hit by one of Hashirama's punches – he didn't particularly feel like breaking any bones. Yet, even though he was being pushed back, he was far more interested in the look of complete rage reflected in Hashirama's eyes. It wasn't directed at him, certainly, but he'd rarely seen the Senju this infuriated.

The punches and the kicks kept coming, Madara taking steps back to try and put some distance between them, something that Hashirama didn't seem interested in allowing. When it came to the point where Madara had to block with both his arms, the power behind the punch was so big he was still thrown back, his back falling against a tree. Hashirama stopped his fist right in front of Madara's face when he realized in the nick of time that the Uchiha wouldn't be able to dodge, and slowly lowered it.

They were silent while Madara stared at Hashirama and Hashirama closed his eyes, both of them panting after the intense sparring match. The Senju's busted lip was bleeding again, a thin stream of blood running down his chin. Madara scowled, wiping it away with his thumb as Hashirama looked up at him in surprise at the sudden gesture.

"Let's go again."

In a way, while Madara was certainly enjoying the sparring himself, he knew he was doing this more for Hashirama than for his own pleasure. It frustrated him to see the other in such turmoil; it was hard to spot for anyone else but Madara could tell by just glancing at his eyes that Tōka's death had affected him more than he'd let on.

So he held out for several hours while Hashirama took out all his frustration out on him, until the both of them where exhausted. Hashirama was more tired than Madara who'd been mostly on the defense, though he'd gotten in a few good punches too. By the time they called it a day the sun had long gone down, as they'd completely lost track of time. In the end, the training field was messed up pretty badly; cracks and holes in the earth, a few trees destroyed here and there, but nothing too serious.

Hashirama wiped the sweat off his forehead, feeling a little better now he'd let it all out. The evening wind felt pleasantly cooling against his hot skin, and he looked around, assessing the damage he'd done to the environment. Madara stood across from him, figuring he'd probably get a few bruises from this tomorrow though he didn't mind. Hashirama seemed much calmer than he was before their match, but it seemed like the anger had just been replaced by melancholy.

"Feeling better now?" he asked nonetheless, walking over to the Senju as he readjusted his ruffled clothes. Hashirama gave him a slight smile.

"Somewhat." he answered, shifting even closer to Madara and snaking an arm around his waist to pull him closer. "You're a lot more considerate than people give you credit for."

"Are you attempting to be romantic?" Madara replied dryly, pushing Hashirama's arm off him, to the Senju's great displeasure. "Not in the middle of the field." Hashirama's expression darkened, and Madara suddenly found himself being pressed against him again, both arms wrapped around his lower back.

"I want you." Hashirama murmured in his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"What are you _doing_?" Madara growled despite that, trying to push away, though he stilled for a moment as he felt Hashirama's lips pressed on his neck. "What if someone–"

"They won't. We'll hear them approaching." Hashirama whispered. Madara gritted his teeth, managing to push Hashirama away far enough to stare him in the eyes, and what he saw didn't make him happy. He shoved the Senju away with an irritated look.

"I'm not going to be your cure for depression, you idiot." he said decisively. Hashirama frowned for a moment, before he grabbed Madara's hand, kissing the tips of his fingers while his gaze burned right through Madara, who couldn't look away.

"Can't I even get one kiss?" Madara didn't answer for a moment, dazed especially when Hashirama took Madara's middle finger in his mouth, staring at him so intently while he sucked on it that Madara was immediately reminded of that night a few days ago and his pants started feeling far too tight.

"I think we both know where that one kiss is going to lead, you manipulative prick." Madara snapped, managing to jerk his hand out of Hashirama's grip, who looked entirely discontented. Well, Madara couldn't leave him by himself _now_. The man would probably go straight back to brooding, and that was just downright pathetic. "Come on, let's get something to eat." he said eventually. Hashirama didn't respond at first, and Madara sighed. He reached over, feeling a little embarrassed, as he took Hashirama's hand into his own. "I wasn't _asking_, Senju. Let's go." he said impatiently, tugging on Hashirama's hand.

The wide smile that flourished on Hashirama's face made the awkward gesture completely worth it.

"Alright, but you're paying. I left my money at home."

"Cheap bastard."

* * *

The end of the week approached far too quickly as the entire village prepared for the oncoming war. Hashirama knew the moments he shared with Madara until that time would be fleeting and something that had to be cherished. He didn't like how it felt like he'd resolved himself to the end of their relationship, but he could see Madara grow more uneasy with every strategic meeting they had with the other clan leaders. It wasn't official, and no one had said it yet, but it was clear as day who was calling the shots, and who _would _be calling the shots even after the war. They were stalling for the inevitable, and they both knew it.

They didn't talk to each other about it. It was better not to bring It up if it didn't have to be; that would just ruin everything. But when that day came, that they had to leave Konoha and head for battle, that they had to confront Suna, Hashirama – feeling far too nostalgic as he donned his battle armor and stood right outside the village gates – turned to glance at Madara who stood much further away with his own men. Their eyes met briefly.

Uncertainty, anxiety, excitement; it was a mixture of emotions which only threw him into unease, wondering what would become of them after this was over. Hashirama would have to do something to keep them together. He'd told Madara that much and he would stick to his word, and yet it seemed like such an overwhelming task that he wondered if Madara had even believed him when he'd said that. Either way, he couldn't do it on his own. The question was only whether Madara was prepared to let go of his pride and meet him halfway.

"Everyone's ready to head out." Hashirama glanced to the side, Tobirama standing there like he'd always had. His brother had seemed unusually anxious for this war, but had dodged any questions concerning his behavior. Hashirama wondered what was on his mind – but it was not the time to ask for it.

They headed out for war.

* * *

**Consider this a segue into the more important stuff. Not sure how I feel about this chapter as it's like, 4 AM and my brain is dead.**

**So there may be a lot of grammar mistakes I overlooked. I'll, like, go to sleep and correct it in the morning, or whatever.**

**I LOVE YOU REVIEWERS.**

**Bye. **


	26. Conflict

**Conflict**

Any and all attempts at negotiations were struck down. Hashirama probably should've been more disappointed at that than he actually was; of course he couldn't deny how this ordeal had impacted him personally. All he could think about, was how Tōka had deserved a better ending to her story. He thought, perhaps naively, that he wouldn't have to see any more loved ones being buried. Childish fantasies of a village where everyone would be safe; where he could protect everyone. The enemy used to be rival clans. Now it had evolved into rival villages – rival countries, and the more he continued this uphill battle towards peace, the more he felt like the entire world was fighting against him and he couldn't understand _why_. Why were people so caught up into their own twisted realities that they couldn't see the solution to all this strife was right in front of them? Had the seeds of war been sown too deep for him to weed them out?

"Don't be so arrogant. Who do you think you are? The savior of the world?" Madara sneered at him when he conveyed his concerns to the man. Crickets outside, accompanied by the soft sizzling of the campfire. They were in Hashirama's tent, near the border of the countries of Fire and Wind. Tobirama was right outside, as were several soldiers of other clans – the only bright side Hashirama saw about this situation was that everyone was united under the cause of protecting the village, regardless of their clan. Of course distrust was still somewhat of an issue, but the common enemy overshadowed that by quite a margin.

"I just want peace." Hashirama replied in frustration, sitting across Madara with his arms folded as a small candlelight was the only thing illuminating the tent.

"Everyone wants peace. _Suna_ wants peace, except in their eyes we're the ones causing conflict. What's your point?" Madara replied in a bored tone as he leaned back on his hands.

"I know the world can't stay out of war forever, I know _that. _I merely wanted at least my reign to be without any. I wanted things to be peaceful at least for as long as I was around."

"What would happen when you died?"

"Well, there would be other people to carry on my will. At least I'd hope so."

"This again?" Madara scoffed, giving him a cynical look and making him sigh.

"I know how you feel about that, but be reasonable – what will people take revenge on when I die? Nature?"

"That's assuming you die of natural causes."

"What? You think there's someone strong enough out there to kill me?" Madara scowled at his carefree tone.

"Your hubris will be your downfall one day, you know."

"Pot, meet kettle." Hashirama responded casually, smirking at the glare Madara sent his way while the man leaned forward.

"I'm just saying there are a number of ways you could get killed. It won't be a glorious one-to-one battle. An ambush, poisoning, betrayal, being outnumbered–"

"Let's suppose you're right and I die prematurely by any of the causes you just mentioned. You'd avenge me, knowing that it would be against my dying wishes?" Madara stayed silent for a moment, staring down at the flame of the small candle on his right.

"Of course I would." he huffed, subtly avoiding eye-contact. "I don't care about a dead man's wishes. I only care…." He trailed off, crossing his arms as he fixed his gaze onto the ground in front of him. Hashirama waited for a moment for him to finish his sentence, but when he didn't seem intent on doing so, he shifted, going to sit right beside him as he felt whatever Madara had been about to say had been something sensitive.

"You only care… about what?" he inquired curiously, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone as he didn't want to come off as too forceful. The subtlety Madara had previous put into avoiding eye-contact was thrown out the window as he blatantly turned his head away entirely now. "Come on, there are no secrets between friends, right?" Madara gave him a reluctant glance.

"I'd… only care about the hole you'd leave behind."

There was a deep silence as Hashirama gazed at him with wide eyes, Madara fixatedly glaring down at the candle while the Senju was trying to process what had just been said. Eventually, he gently wrapped his arms around Madara's waist, planting a tender kiss on Madara's cheek.

"That was awfully romantic." he teased. "So you can admit _that_, but you can't say you love me?"

Madara shot him a furious look, pushing him away by slamming the palm of his hand into Hashirama's face and shoving him down to the ground while he got up.

"I'm going to sleep!" he snapped angrily, barging out of the tent while Hashirama lay down on the ground, blinking dazedly at what had just happened. A few seconds after Madara had left, Tobirama entered the tent with a slight frown.

"You really love screwing yourself over, don't you?" he remarked wryly while he sat down across his brother. "What did you say to set him off _now_?" Hashirama rubbed the back of his head with a puzzled look.

"Maybe I was a little too nonchalant about it?" he wondered aloud, sighing as he sat upright again.

"Don't worry about it. He'll come around in a day or two after venting with his war fan on some poor sucker on the battlefield."

"Battlefield, huh?" Hashirama muttered, his grim tone of voice making Tobirama roll his eyes.

"You're not feeling guilty about starting a war, are you?"

"No." Hashirama responded with a frown, brushing a hand through his hair. "I actually feel pleased, and that's what bothers me."

"They_ killed_ Tōka. It's completely understandable you'd–"

"You know that's not it, Tobirama. Other clans have killed my friends and family on numerous occasions, but I never held a grudge before. Not until now. I can't figure out what changed." Tobirama was quiet for a moment as he pondered this as well for a while. It didn't take him long to come up with a response.

"You thought everyone would be safe once you created the village. When they killed her those hopes were crushed, weren't they? You don't resent Suna; you resent your own failure, but you _are_ taking it out on them." Hashirama considered his words for a few seconds, wondering whether it was entirely true. Could it be he'd just gotten too tired to forgive?

"That sounds about right." he answered despite his doubts, not in the mood to contemplate it any further. His younger brother stood up, seeming to want to make his leave again, but he wasn't finished talking yet.

"I know that even if I told you that you didn't fail anyone, you probably won't care and continue brooding anyway. So, do me at least the favor of keeping it at a minimum, alright?" Hashirama glanced up at him and nodded stiffly. Tobirama gazed at him for a few more seconds before he left. He was certainly handling Tōka's death better than Hashirama was – that's what it would seem like to most other people. The truth was that Tobirama was simply better at bottling up his feelings. Hashirama hoped it wouldn't impact him negatively on the battlefield tomorrow. One mistake was enough to cost a man his life and he was through seeing his loved ones killed. He'd be damned if he was going to let his brother be the next on the list of casualties.

* * *

Terribly familiar. Even if he'd never met these people before, their screams sent him reeling into a dreadful déjà vu. He'd been there so many times before; fire, smoke, blood, corpses, _corpses_, heaps of them, burning. The stench was appalling.

"There's still one left." Madara glanced at Hashirama, following his look. Indeed, there was still one man standing amidst the dead bodies of his comrades surrounding him. The main portion of Suna's army had been flanked and completely destroyed by Hashirama and Madara's companies. There were still several other battles going on elsewhere, but as far as the entire war was looking, Konoha had the clear edge by a landslide.

"He doesn't look injured. Did he just arrive?" Madara remarked as he looked their new opponent over. A tall, young man with dark, curly hair and a furious look in his amber eyes, wielding a black sword – out for blood, certainly. A few of their men standing closest to the newcomer didn't hesitate to attack him.

Something very strange happened. The Suna shinobi raised his sword, swung it around, and before the Konoha shinobis could react, the blade of the sword morphed into a black chain with a sickle, giving him far more reach and effectively cutting down the attackers. Hashirama couldn't discern from what the blade was made of from this distance, but he'd bet it was some sort of Kekkei Genkai. He looked over to Madara, and instantly recognized the glinting in his eyes.

"Madara–"

"Stay out of my way. I'll take care of him." Hashirama sighed while the other walked off, ordering everyone else to fall back while he approached the Suna shinobi. Madara hadn't expected to find such an interesting challenge at all, though he doubted the shinobi would last longer than a few minutes at best.

The Suna shinobi glared at him, but avoided looking at his eyes. At least he had a modicum of intelligence, then, though he was still a fool for confronting both him _and _Hashirama, and expect to get out alive. Or perhaps he wasn't expecting to get out alive. It could be a suicide mission in the hopes to take down one of them with him to the grave. Regardless, it was still a very foolish decision.

"You must have a death wish." Madara remarked as he pulled his scythe from his back, studying the man's peculiar weapon carefully.

"You're right. I do have a death wish – for _you_!" the Suna shinobi yelled at him.

"Among all the stupid lines people have yelled at me at the beginning of a battle, that has been the stupidest yet. You even outdid _that_ idiot. You should feel proud." Madara commented languidly, pointing at Hashirama with his thumb over his shoulder, who just ignored it and continued observing.

"Shut up!" the Suna shinobi screamed, actually throwing his weapon, chains and all, towards him. He was evidently upset that he wasn't being taken seriously. Madara narrowed his eyes as he prepared to dodge, when the weapon morphed into several long spikes of black – he finally recognized, they were made out of iron. He rolled to the left, the first three spears missing him and hitting the ground, though one grazed his shoulder and made a small cut. The other two he smacked away with his scythe – when they suddenly changed direction and came flying back towards him. He dodged narrowly as those two penetrated the ground, realizing that blocking was futile.

"Hmph. That's it?" Madara said, irritated. "Magnetic force that manipulates the iron. You gave that away quite easily."

"It doesn't matter if you figured out my ability! It won't change the fact that I'll crush you!"

"…You really piss me off." He readied his blade, deciding on a full-frontal assault as he ran towards him scythe aiming for his neck. The Suna shinobi manipulated his iron – sand, he saw now – into a constant stream in an attempt to stop Madara dead in his tracks. Unfortunately for him, Madara's skill with the Sharingan was more than enough to figure out his opponent's attack patterns within a few seconds and react accordingly. It didn't take him long to break through his defense, raising his scythe and taking a swing for his enemy's head.

The man ducked in the nick of time, but a follow up attack, deep gash in his left shoulder, made him lose his footing, and he fell down on his back. Madara took a moment to look at his face now he was up close. The Suna shinobi was surprisingly young; at most in his late teens, and entirely driven – and blinded – by his emotions.

"Children shouldn't be on the battlefield." he said softly, before raising his weapon again and going in for the kill, the boy raising his arms up to his head protectively. It was only at the last second that Madara saw the iron sand coming for him, shooting right out of the teen's sleeves. He would've been stabbed right then and there hadn't it been for Susanoo's ribcage which was summoned at the last second, blocking the attack. The opponent took advantage of this by getting up and putting distance in between them.

"That's a very literal take on 'having a trick up your sleeve'." Madara glanced over his shoulder to see Tobirama had joined them by now. It seems his battle had been a success as well, though his shoulder and right leg seemed wounded, covered in bandages.

"Your inane commentary isn't needed right now, Tobirama." He shifted his gaze back towards the boy who was trembling and sweating, clearly having realized he didn't stand a chance. "What's your name, kid?" The teen glowered at him in suspicion.

"S-Saboten."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped angrily, holding his deeply wounded shoulder. That arm pretty much looked like it was about to fall off.

"Then you know you're about to die." Madara noted as he started walking towards him, though he noticed something odd; there was no fear in his eyes.

"Madara wait." Hashirama called out, making the Uchiha stop for a moment. "Keep him alive. He's probably valuable to Suna, given his unique Kekkei Genkai. He's more useful to us alive than dead." Madara was about to talk back to him when Saboten started laughing, focusing everyone's attention back on him.

"Did the kid lose his mind?" Madara heard Hikaku mumble, and he had to wonder the same thing.

"It doesn't matter! I've already won!" Saboten declared triumphantly, pointing at Madara's shoulder. "One hit was all I ever needed! Your arrogance was your downfall, Madara Uchiha!"

"The cheesy lines just keep coming, don't they?" Tobirama wondered aloud, far less alarmed than his brother was, and far less furious than Madara was.

"_Poison_?! You little–"

"Stop him!"

Saboten had planned to take his own life – he'd knew he'd be a dead man either way, but he couldn't let them capture him now. No doubt they'd do whatever it took to get the recipe for the cure out of him. His poison was a one of a kind, custom-made and no one else knew the cure for it. He always took to induce his iron sand with poison, so one hit would be enough to take his target out forever.

He had not counted on a space/time ninjutsu blindsiding him completely and being knocked out before he could stab himself with his sand. Tobirama supposed it was _one _benefit to being overshadowed by the presence of your older brother; most less experienced shinobi tended to forget to research his abilities and ended up regretting it later. He looked at Madara who was fuming at falling for such a cheap trick, even if he had his own arrogance to blame for it. Hikaku was already by his side as and Hashirama approached him and asked whether he was alright.

Nonetheless, this situation was perfect to Tobirama. After they were done interrogating him, they wouldn't have a need for Saboten any longer – making him suited to act as the sacrifice for Edo Tensei. He doubted taking him hostage as leverage against Suna was going to have any effect, unless Suna was so pathetically under-powered that they'd surrender to get a vastly inexperienced, stupid teenager back. Kekkei Genkai or no.

Hikaku walked over to him and the unconscious boy lying on the ground, picking him up over his shoulder as Tobirama couldn't with his wounded one.

"Thank you." the young man said unexpectedly, making Tobirama raise his eyebrows.

"For what?"

"I know you don't exactly like Madara. If this kid had managed to kill himself I don't think we would find a cure on time." Hikaku replied sincerely, though his grave tone was a little amusing to Tobirama.

"It was just a gut reaction. Don't read too much into it; I still don't like him." Hikaku smiled slightly and then went on his way to carry the hostage off, ordering a group of his men to take care of the kid, handing him over.

Meanwhile, Madara was feeling a bit dizzy.

"I can walk on my own!" he snapped impatiently when Hashirama grabbed a hold of his arm when the Uchiha stumbled a bit as he walked back towards his subordinates.

"You just got _poisoned_." Hashirama replied with a frustrated look.

"I'll…." It didn't take long for his head to start hurting, his body starting to feel excruciatingly hot while his sense of balance was thrown off completely. Hashirama caught him before he hit the ground, feeling completely powerless as he could do nothing but watch as his lover started coughing up his blood while he held him in his arms. Tobirama walked over to the two, several other shinobi already having gathered around them, as he stared down at Madara's sweating and trembling form.

"Seems like we don't have a lot of time."

* * *

**I do so love to torture my characters.**

**Saboten = cactus. Suna, desert… cactuses…. Yeah, it was my failed attempt at being creative.**

**Cacti or catuses? I can't decide.**

**It was fun writing a generic villain though. And a plot device. I should use more plot devices. **

**Your amazing reviews bring me love! Thank you guys so much! T_T**


	27. Bound

**Bound**

"Don't move or the poison will- would you _listen _to me for once?!"

Madara glared up at Hikaku as the young man kept his arms pinned down. He'd just wanted to wipe the sweat off his forehead but apparently he wasn't even allowed do that in his position. He was lying on a futon in his own tent, his armor and weapons discarded and lying somewhere in the corner while Hikaku had decided to keep watch over him.

Madara still managed to wriggle a hand free and tug at his own shirt.

"Ta…take it off_," _he hissed with a frustrated look, scowling as Hikaku grabbed his hand and put it back down. "Take it off or I'll rip it off myself!" he managed to choke out, breathing heavily as the horrible heat his body was suffering from was making it hard for him to focus. Hikaku sighed and complied, lifting Madara's shirt off over his head and putting it down beside him.

"Just calm down; we'll find a cure in no time." the younger man said as he grabbed the small wet towel from the bowl of cold water beside him, gently wiping the sweat and blood off Madara's face and lips. The injured man let out a deep breath of relief as the cooling water felt like a cure to his pain for just a few seconds as it slowly dripped off his face. "You should've been more careful."

"Don't lecture me." Hikaku gave him a stubborn look as he put the now bloodied towel away.

"I wouldn't have to if you hadn't been so careless." the younger Uchiha scoffed. The clan leader gritted his teeth in annoyance at his subordinate's defiant tone, but stayed silent, feeling too tired to even show his anger. His vision was swimming, his skin was glowing hot and his skull felt like it was splitting in two – and it was only getting worse by the minute. Every now and then he'd cough up some blood or his eyes would tear up, far more sensitive to the lights than usual, so much so he ended up asking Hikaku to put out the candles. The darkness made it easier for him to rest.

"I'll go check on our prisoner. I'll be right back, alright? Don't do anything reckless." With that the young man left reluctantly and his leader was alone in his tent, his heavy breaths and pounding heart the only things making any noise. His ears had already locked out any other sounds from the outside as his focus was all directed towards his own body. The temperature was rising steadily and he was on the brink of passing out until he couldn't take it anymore and reached for the bowl of water, dragging it towards him and spilling the contents all over himself. He shouldn't have bothered; it was only temporary relief and within seconds he was right back to where he started.

"Madara? Are you–"

"_Water_," he croaked, his brain barely registering whose voice it was he hearing. At the silence, he turned his head to the left, seeing a figure moving closer, flinching when he felt a cool hand on his cheek. It took him a moment to realize whom it belonged to. If Hashirama's normally warm hand was feeling cool to his skin then he had to have a huge fever.

"Stay put."

"Where else would I go, you idiot." Madara snarled at him in a hoarse voice while Hashirama grabbed the empty bowl and left. By the time he returned Madara was coughing up more blood, his condition having worsened in the few short minutes he'd been gone. Hashirama sat down next to him, wiping the blood off his mouth and chin.

The slit of moonlight glowing through the narrow opening of the tent was the only thing to provide any sort of illumination, falling on Madara's face, though not bright enough to make him squint. It was a very quiet night, the sound of crickets and the soft buzz of chattering soldiers being the only noises that came from outside other than the occasional footsteps passing the tent.

Inside it was uncomfortably silent. Madara opened his mouth to say something.

"Don't talk; you'll just waste your energy. Rest for now." Hashirama smiled, but no matter how carefree his tone was and no matter how at ease he pretended to be, Madara could see the controlled rage glinting in his eyes in the small ray of moonlight.

"Don't you have other things to do?" the injured man spoke despite the other's advice. Hashirama's fingers brushed locks of his hair out of the Uchiha's face, then moved to caress his cheek.

"I'm sure I do, but right now they don't matter." Madara stared up at his lover's eyes, and felt cornered by the almost sickeningly sweet stare and his own inability to move due to the poison. Trapped like a rat.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted Hashirama with him in the tent anymore.

He was in a strange place – different from the _other _times he'd been vulnerable – as he was at his weakest. Even being driven wild by pleasure had never left him this exposed, and he could describe Hashirama's presence as nothing but stifling. This feeling of being overwhelmed or overpowered by something else did not please him in the least.

Once Hashirama was established to be higher than him in rank, he wasn't sure how he was going to deal with that – if at all. As things were, he might be able to tolerate it, though for how long? The village right now was already worshiping the ground Hashirama walked on, Madara imagined that unreasonable adoration would only get worse when he actually became their leader, and where would that leave him?

A clan that had turned its back on him, a village that only had eye for the other founder, and a lover who smothered him completely.

That gaze fixated on him pierced through him like a dagger, and while his own discomfort and apprehension for the future was certainly reason enough for him to turn away – there was something else troubling him.

Before this tortuous love affair, Hashirama would've _never _turned from his duties before – no matter how trivial they were. It seemed that, where Madara had softened a bit, Hashirama's sense of responsibility had dulled. This was not to the Uchiha clan leader's liking in the least bit; one of the things that was undeniably Hashirama and that had attracted him to the stubborn man in the first place was how full of purpose he seemed to be. He knew his duty and never failed or wavered in the least bit. If this changed at all, Madara had a feeling the warm feeling of love sickness inside his chest would quickly twist into the utmost loathing. He had to admit, however, that Hashirama wasn't the only one who'd been starting to change.

With a scowl he remembered the times he'd come home miserable or angry or distressed and hadn't spoken a word about it to his closest friend – Hikaku – instead talking in circles or opting to blatantly refuse answering altogether. He'd been starting to completely isolate himself from everyone else. How Hikaku had put up with him so patiently was beyond him.

In the end, they'd both changed in subtle ways, but he could foresee this _thing _they had rapidly turning into a dangerous obsession if something was not done about it in a timely manner. They needed some space between them to remind them there was more out there than just each other.

The soothing feeling that came from the man's fingers then brushing through Madara's hair completely vanished – instead it became suffocating, too close and too personal. The tent grew cold.

How strange how someone's place in your life could change at the drop of a single thought.

"Madara?" Hashirama hadn't overlooked the abrupt change in atmosphere.

He really couldn't _think _right with Hashirama around; his whole life revolved too much around him now, and he needed some distance before they crashed into each other and inevitably destroyed both of their lives. They'd rushed into things without taking a moment to think the future through and now Madara was left with a headache and Hashirama was left in bemusement at the unexpected change in body language.

"Sleep," Madara whispered, turning his head away from the other. "I need sleep." Hashirama remained silent for a few seconds, and though Madara couldn't see his face, he could almost _feel _the Senju leader's posture stiffen.

"Alright," The lips that pressed gently on his forehead after were too cold – and Madara already knew Hashirama felt confused and frustrated, but he was too tired to have a conversation about it at the moment. Being poisoned wasn't a great prerequisite to talking through your relationship issues.

Still, even while he'd decided that he needed some distance, once Hashirama was gone, his body immediately started missing his tender touches. It was as if it was doing that on purpose just to torment him some more.

In another life the solution to this problem was no doubt simple. In another life, maybe they even had a fairy tale ending to live happily ever after or some sort of complete nonsense like that. Even if they were headed for a cliff right now – he would never try to pick the easy way out. The only thing he couldn't help but wonder about, was whether or not he'd be able to find an answer before the both of them crashed down and took everyone else crashing down together with them.

* * *

"Alright, listen – we both know you're stupid and young and I'd rather not hurt children–"

"I am not a child! I am the MAN who poisoned your clan leader!"

"Do you even understand the situation you're in, kid?"

"You'll never get any answers out of me, dammit!" The boy started thrashing around as if having a small temper tantrum on the cold, hard ground outside, tied to a tree so he couldn't move too much. Hikaku rubbed his forehead in frustration while the two guards looked a little lost as to what to do with this. He'd thought that perhaps he could reason with Saboten since that would be the much smoother resolution to this "incident", but the young Suna shinobi seemed dead-set on having Madara choke on his own blood.

They were just a short distance away from the second division camp, which was Madara's division, and so far the kid had completely refused to talk. He was an eccentric kid, with a very extravagant way of speaking. Kind of melodramatic, to Hikaku's taste, but amusing nonetheless. Regardless of how likable the curly haired boy was, however, he'd attempted (or was attempting to) kill his clan leader and friend, and he could not let that slide under any circumstances.

"I suppose I have no choice." Hikaku murmured to himself, sighing as he looked over the teen boy who truly had _no _clue what he was doing. His determination was the only thing he had left at this point next to his life, and it appeared that he'd already given up on the latter, so he was focusing everything on sticking to his resolve. Admirably foolish. Hikaku took another moment to look him over. Saboten glared back at him, straight in his Sharingan – still hadn't bitten his own tongue off. That is how inexperienced he truly was. Hikaku couldn't help but pity the boy.

As he was about to approach the prisoner, something else entirely petrified him on the spot as a cold chill ran down his spine. He turned to look over his shoulder, and as if his feet moved on their own command, he stepped aside entirely – as did the guards next to the boy – when Hashirama came walking along.

It wasn't that he was furious; no, there was not even a _speck _of anger on the man's face. He moved calmly, his face unreadable, the look in his eyes merely watchful. Piercingly attentive.

"Did he talk yet?" No ire in his voice; no underlying threats. Nothing. Just that sharp gaze.

Both Hikaku and Saboten were thoroughly confused, wondering whether to be relaxed or scared.

"I was about to make him." Hikaku replied quietly, the two guards exchanging a puzzled look at Hashirama's oddly peaceful posture as well.

"There's no reason for that." the Senju leader said to Hikaku, before he turned his gaze to Saboten, who was completely tense, no doubt expecting to be tortured at any moment now. Instead, Hashirama kneeled down, leveling his gaze with the teen's. "How old are you, kid?"

"I'm fif-fifteen." he stammered, completely unnerved by the direct stare he was receiving.

"That's pretty young to be running towards your death so hastily."

Saboten gritted his teeth and turned his head away, shifting to sit more comfortably and making his chains rattle softly. He only glanced back at the Konoha founder when the man decided to sit right across from him and did not look away. Hikaku gestured the two guards to leave, since with Hashirama around, they weren't needed anymore, though he himself decided to stick around and watch.

"I'm not telling you anything." Saboten ground out, decidedly avoiding eye-contact as he stared down at his knees, but his tone betrayed his hesitance. He wasn't ready to die; what kid his age would? He still had his whole life ahead of him, so of course he'd have doubts about his decision, but he'd also been raised as a shinobi first.

"Why are you so determined to kill him?" Hashirama asked curiously, almost disturbingly so. Hikaku wondered how he managed to be so composed about this, until he wondered – was Hashirama calling the kid's bluff? Saboten's resolve did seem to crack slightly under the scrutiny of such a powerful man, and perhaps he could persuaded.

"B-because he's the enemy!" he yelled with a hateful look.

"Do you know why?"

"I… I don't need to know why! It's my duty to my village as a shinobi from Suna–"

"You don't want to die, do you?" The sympathetic look on Hashirama's face was so unexpected Saboten's walls started crumbling, stone by stone. Hikaku regarded this in complete fascination; he'd heard stories about the man's charisma before, but _this _was absolutely ridiculous.

"I-if… if I ha-have to for the–"

"For the village?" Hashirama cut him off, studying his face for a moment, and then sighing. "You and I both know you don't actually think that way, and who can blame you? You're still young, and the burden of such a sacrifice should've never fallen on your shoulders. They used you for your Kekkei Genkai, and you'd thought you'd return a hero – but it's never that easy." The look on Saboten's face was one mixed with anger, fright and heavy doubt. The conflict brewing in his eyes was so heavy he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, before fear overwhelmed him and he was nothing more than a frightened boy bound against a tree and on the verge of tears.

"Y-you won't let me go even if I tell you! My teacher warned me about this! The minute I give you the cure you'll just kill me off anyway! I'm too big a threat!" he shouted with dread laced in his words, feeling like he was at the end of his rope and ready to drop into the abyss. Hashirama observed him with pity, and shook his head.

"Hikaku, undo the chains."

Saboten blinked, gaping at his previous interrogator as he moved without a single complaint; having complete faith in the Senju leader's judgment and releasing the boy from the chains that had been starting to leave marks behind on his arms. Saboten stared up at Hashirama who just smiled.

"It's more comfortable without them, right?"

"You're _insane_! W-why did you release me?!" Hashirama stood up again, while Saboten didn't move an inch.

"You said we'd perceive you as too big a threat to release you. I'm proving you wrong." the man replied simply. The boy stiffened as the air around them became much heavier, denser, weighing down on his chest like a sack of stones. It didn't take Saboten long to realize, as he stared up at one of Konoha's founders, that the reason for his friendly behavior towards him so far was because Saboten was as much a threat to him as an ant crawling through the grass. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Even though he was released, he couldn't bring himself to move. This was it, then. He could decide to die and take the Uchiha clan leader with him, or he could put his life in the hands of the man in front of him.

"Hashirama!"

"Sasuke?"

There was only a moment of confusion as the short man ran towards them, blood splattered all over his armor and part of his face, looking like he'd just walked through a hurricane – and Hashirama's brain faintly reminded him that Sasuke was supposed to be in Tobirama's division who'd been on patrol for tonight. So then why was Sasuke covered in–

It clicked.

Sasuke's eyes were completely distraught.

"We were ambushed!"

* * *

**Sorry for the late update, I've been pretty depressed lately. I eventually got off my lazy ass after going through the review page and seeing how many amazing feedback I've gotten over this journey and how I haven't even replied to any of the reviews for the previous chapter and seriously you guys are far too kind and such lovely people I'm sorry I'm such a horrible human being plz don't hate me oh my god I can't believe how far I've gotten with this story I couldn't have done it without you *rolls up into a ball of self-loathing and dies*. **

**Also Tobirama may or may not die depending on my many whims. Haha. Ok, you can hate me now.**

**Anyway: on a scale from one to ten how bad did Madara's I'm-gonna-rape-a-certain-Senju-face scare you?**

**Because I was reading it on mangastream which has big pages and holy shit I nearly fell off my chair didnotseethatcoming. Well, I did see it coming, but not in the shape of… **_**that **_**face.**

**Calling it. Kishimoto ships HashiMada. **


	28. Shadow

**Shadow**

Tobirama heard a shout. Amidst the cacophony of blades clashing, fire blazing, the earth roaring and soldiers falling, he couldn't tell whether it had been from a friend or foe. Just one scream out of a hundred of them; some were desperate, some were angry, but most were terrified. It had been a while since he'd heard those screams. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to witness someone's last moments as their life slipped through their fingers like smoke, and they gasped – sometimes they whimpered, sometimes a last, furious battle cry welled up from their throat as if they declared war on death itself. In the end, nothing remained but their corpse, fallen on the blood-soaked ground, slowly growing cold. He thought it a fascinating thing; life was not always fair, but death never discriminated.

"Watch your back!"

"Hideki! To your left!"

"I need assistance!"

"Fall back!"

Chaotic, as always. No matter what strategy he devised, _something _would always end up going wrong and they'd be left to improvise. Tobirama would deal with it to the best of his ability, as he'd always had – but those puppets were getting damned annoying. There were a handful of puppet users among the squad that had ambushed his own, and they were highly skilled. Their marionettes flitted across the battlefield with ease – battlefield being an open clearing in the woods where the trees were otherwise packed tightly together, moonlight barely escaping through their leaves. There was no wind that night.

He waited patiently behind a large oak, two of his other men also hiding behind the covers of two large trees, near the puppet user he was targeting though they were unable to get close. This one controlled four of them at the same time, but Tobirama had found a weakness in their technique that had been so blatantly obvious that he was surprised no one else had figured it out before.

The chakra strings they used to control the puppets could obviously not be severed by any conventional weapons. Fortunately, Tobirama's sword wasn't a _conventional_ weapon. It had been made from a special type of material that made infusing his chakra with it possible. With such a blade, severing the strings would be very simple, to say the least – but luring them out so he had a clear sight on where all the strings were was a different matter.

This was where his subordinates came in. One team had to lure these puppets out as much as they could, after which Tobirama severed the strings, and the other team would catch the then defenseless puppet user by surprise, eliminating the biggest threat on the battlefield at the moment, while a third group took care of the regular foot soldiers.

Unfortunately, getting all the puppets neatly lined up in a row had quickly proved to be impossible. The puppet users – instead of remaining on the same spot – moved around quite a bit; probably to prevent sneak attacks from happening.

Tobirama cursed under his breath as he painstakingly remained patient. They had much less shinobi to begin with compared to the Suna shinobi who had added manpower because of the puppets, and if he didn't act soon they might actually be overrun. There were four puppet masters in total; One wielded four puppets, one wielded six, the other two wielded two. Fourteen puppets in total – only four were lined up, but they were doing more damage than the other Suna shinobi were. They were bland puppets, covered in simple cloaks with long, razor sharp swords or claws for arms, swirling like tornados across the battlefield – and they had to be stopped as soon as possible.

Well, it seemed that Tobirama would just have to take his chances and hope Sasuke got the reinforcements in time. It was the best plan he had at the moment and after that, he'd just have to improvise. He would be able to handle with the Suna attack, of course; this was not a matter of winning or losing, but a matter of minimizing the casualties.

The fact that it was night made this battle more risky than usual; if you weren't careful you could find yourself with a sword through the back within a matter of seconds. Every now and then he'd see a flare of light blazing from his peripheral vision, either from a ration jutsu or katon jutsu, but that never lasted. Sometimes there was an eerie silence among both sides – for just a few seconds, no one would say a thing, no one would yell or even whisper. There would be only the sound of weapons clashing or jutsu being performed to interrupt the quiet. The battle felt strangely impersonal; as if they were made out of stone, doing what they were expected to do, not what they wanted to do.

In the past, things had been different. Tobirama remembered how heated some wars had gotten, back when the Senju and the Uchiha were still knee-deep into conflict with each other. The rage and grief over losing loved ones and comrades continuously over a very long period of time had festered in their wounds; hatred and fury rooting deep within their souls, sometimes even turning into pure malice. But even that, had cooled down eventually. Young (too young) soldiers growing up, and growing tired.

This war was a perfect example of what shinobi were supposed to be traditionally, at their very core. Tools for battle. Konoha – created for the very _purpose _of ending war. Suna – feeling threatened, feeling forced to attack in the face of this superpower, like a cornered cat. Neither had wanted this war to happen. Both saw no other options. It was just business, eliminating a threat, taking care of looming danger.

Tobirama glanced at the two others waiting in cover for his signal near the puppet master, who was distracted by a few Hyūga clan members luring his puppets out with close combat. The two Konoha shinobi in hiding watched Tobirama expectantly, to which he nodded slowly, before readying his blade and stepping out of his cover.

The targeted puppet user looked completely bewildered when his puppets suddenly dropped lifelessly to the ground after a blue flash, barely realizing – a second too late – that the strings had been severed. By that time the other two Konoha shinobi had already attacked, taking him by surprise and cutting him down swiftly. The Suna shinobi nearby became highly unnerved by this, and from the apprehensive looks on their faces Tobirama gathered they would either retreat or attack more fiercely.

He glanced to the other side of the clearing – three more puppet users left, two who wielded two and one who wielded six. He'd heard that the more puppets someone could use simultaneously, the more skilled they were; but that also meant the more of their power was divided between the marionettes. It was basically trading a portion of your strength for more numbers, but with the right focus could still be a pain in the ass to deal with.

They'd also witnessed Tobirama cut down the strings, so now they retracted their puppets, on guard for an attack. Well, he supposed the best shot they had now was to destroy the puppets, though he wasn't so certain how easy that would be. Not to mention they still had to deal with other Suna shinobi who weren't making it easy with their earth techniques. He reckoned he could slip past the defenses of the puppet users who both only wielded two, but the one handling the six was probably going to be a drag to deal with.

"Target Doton users. I'll deal with the other marionettes." Tobirama ordered the two shinobi who'd helped him before. They nodded and swiftly went to assist the third squad who'd been dealing with those enemies for a while now. One of them was a lightning based user, so Tobirama figured that should work out itself.

As he was about to join the battle again, he caught it right before it happened.

In a split-second of carelessness, helping a fallen comrade get up to his feet, Hideki Hyūga – so focused on the puppets he didn't see the other Suna shinobi – allowed an enemy to get too close. Sneak attacks. Naturally, most people did not go out like heroes in actual war. Death came suddenly, brutally, ruthlessly. The blaze of glory so many spoke of was only reserved to those with the power to create the blaze. If not, the best you could hope for was a quick, silent death.

Yet, no matter how many times Tobirama saw it happen right in front of his very eyes, he would still never get used to it. The sight of a friend falling. Hideki did not gasp, did not whimper, did not bellow a battle cry. He was quiet as he fell, a surprised look in his eyes which quickly faded into stone as he touched the blood-soaked ground – and his corpse slowly began to grow cold.

* * *

Hikaku watched silently as the usual light in Hashirama's eyes dimmed to cold glass. He was coolly ordered to stay with Saboten and keep an eye on him. Then the man took off with an anxious Sarutobi and a few Uchiha in tow (Hikaku was still baffled how easily his clansmen had been swayed into accepting Hashirama as their leader), heading for the area Tobirama's squad had been patrolling.

Saboten was trembling.

"You look pale." Hikaku noted dryly, sitting across from the boy. A single lantern on the ground next to the captive provided enough light, even on a night so unusually dark. Saboten did not meet his inquisitive look. The boy seemed clearly conflicted, and looked pretty ruffled as well. His amber eyes were wide and fixed to stare on the ground in front of him; dark, curly locks of hair were hanging over his face, covering his forehead entirely.

After receiving no response, Hikaku grew impatient, and prodded the boy some more with his remarks. "I'm expecting the recipe for the cure soon, you know. We don't have all night." Saboten scowled at him, to which Hikaku narrowed his eyes, voice lowering in a dangerous tone. "Glare at me all you like – but if Madara dies, I'll make sure to keep you alive, just enough for you to discover the true meaning of agony."

"I'm a dead man anyway." Saboten muttered, looking away again as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Hikaku raised an eyebrow.

"Man? Hardly."

"If I give you the cure, you'll kill me afterwards. In the case you don't, when I get back to Suna, they'll probably kill me anyway. I'm done for."

"They'd kill you for failure? Even with your Kekkei Genkai?" Hikaku inquired surprised, thinking it a rather dim-witted move on Suna's part. Saboten wrapped his arms around his legs gloomily.

"This wouldn't be the first time I failed; I'm not that good of a shinobi. Plus, my older brother has the same Kekkei Genkai, and he's so much more skilled with it even though we're only one year apart. I'm expendable. A reserve. I knew this from the very start but I just…." He sighed; seeming more tired than sad, which was good. Hikaku was really not in the mood to deal with a crying teenager.

"You just what? If you knew they were using you for that, why not rebel?"

"Rebel and do _what_?! I'm just fifteen! Where would I go? What would I even do with my life, assuming they fail at hunting me down and killing me for being a deserter?" Saboten bit back harshly. For a second Hikaku wondered whether he was going to have a nervous breakdown. Instead- "I'd be all alone in the world, forsaken by both my family and my comrades, wandering from village to village without a purpose, fighting my own destiny–"

"Kid, are you always this theatrical?" Hikaku interrupted him with a frown, blinking at the cheesy lines the prisoner was spouting. Saboten flushed, embarrassed.

"I… I just get carried away sometimes, alright?!"

"You certainly did bite off more than you could chew, what with trying to kill Madara Uchiha." Saboten pressed his lips tightly together, resting his chin on top of his knees but staying silent. "You knew you never stood a chance, and you also knew that you didn't want to die – didn't _have _to die. So why do it, with all that in mind?" The boy didn't respond for quite a while, frowning as he glowered down and hid his face behind his knees. For a second, Hikaku thought he wasn't going to get an answer, until he heard a whisper so faint he'd almost missed it.

"I just wanted to be a hero."

At Hikaku's lack of reaction, Saboten carefully looked up. To his surprise, the man was smiling – albeit bitterly. "There are no heroes in war, kid. Not the ones we fight in."

"They told me–"

"I'm sure they told you a lot of things. Like that you were fighting to protect the village, that you were fighting to ensure everyone's safety, that we'd left you no other choice." Saboten slowly closed his mouth, at a loss for words. The bitter smile on Hikaku's face faded. "What if I told you we were fighting for the same things?"

"Shut up!" Saboten yelled at him, clearly getting panicked at the realization Hikaku had forced on him. "What am I supposed to do?! Even if I give you the cure, what about me?! I can't go back there after I failed – worse, even, aided the enemy!"

"Don't you have parents to go back to? Friends?"

"My parents are both dead. I never had any… any real friends, and my brother just looks down on me. No one there would understand." Hikaku crossed his arms, thinking about this situation carefully. It seemed the kid would budge, but only if his own safety was ensured.

"Then stay here, until the war is over." He eventually proposed, which made Saboten's jaw drop.

"W-what? Stay with… are all you Konoha shinobi crazy?!"

"Why not? Suna will be in ruins by then. No one would think of punishing you." Hikaku proposed. "Or, we could always force it out of you, _very_ painfully. The choice is yours. Considering what you did, I think that's quite the generous offer." Saboten bit down on his lower lip, nodding gradually.

"Alright… alright, I'll… I'll give you the cure."

"Good kid."

* * *

The nausea and pain he could deal with.

The hallucinations he could not.

"Do you remember when we used to sneak outside at night to stare at the stars?"

Madara pressed his face down into his pillow, trying to block out that excruciatingly familiar voice. He would've even preferred downright fainting to suffering through this illusion, this _mockery_ of his late brother's memory. He cringed when a gust of wind gently swept through the tent, almost making it feel like someone was stroking his hair as the breeze stirred it mildly.

"I asked you once, what stars were made of."

'_Try to go to sleep. Ignore it. It will go away.' _

"Brother?"

'_Please shut up.'_

"Back then, you didn't have an answer for me. Told me to go ask mother instead."

'_Please shut up, please shut up, shut up, shut up–'_

"Do you remember what she said?"

'_It's not going away. Why is it not going away?'_

"Madara?"

He could hear the voice so clearly, as if the lips were right beside his ear – concerned, soothing, warm like Izuna had always been. He couldn't take the darkness burning into his eyes any longer, part of him longing to turn around and look. A glimpse of the past; would that be so bad?

Hesitantly, he turned on his side, and slowly opened his eyes. No one was there, except for the empty bowl and dirty, bloodied towel. His vision was blurred, but for a moment, he thought the illusion had disappeared.

"She said the stars were holes in the sky to heaven."

Madara froze, muscles tensing instantly as he heard the voice come from behind him. He knew no one was there; he knew it was nothing more than his own mind playing tricks on him, damaged by the heavy load of the poison.

"Do you think we'll get there one day, brother?"

Still, that was _his _voice, _Izuna's_ voice, so identical to the way he remembered him – he wanted to look. He wanted nothing more than to indulge himself in pretending like that memory had turned into reality, and yet, he was reluctant. Dragging himself back into the past just when he'd gotten out of it was not the brightest idea he'd ever had.

"Why won't you talk to me, Madara? Why won't you look at me?"

His fingers dug themselves into the futon, but that was the only movement the man made as he otherwise simply laid there, completely still at the saddened tone of the non-existent voice resonating through his mind. He tried to shut his thoughts down, he tried not to think of anything or anyone, he tried to will the hallucination away.

Behind him, he heard something move.

Long locks of black hair fell down right in front of his face, a shadow looming over him. He didn't look, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Do you feel guilty?" the shadow whispered spitefully with Izuna's voice, venom dripping off the words. "Does it hurt that you care more about _Hashirama_ than about your own brother?"

"I'd never… I'd _never_ pick him over you." If the shadow was pleased with finally getting a reaction out of him, it didn't show it.

"You love him more than you ever loved me."

"That's not true–"

"You've forgotten about me. Everything is about _him _now; you'd do anything to please _him_ while my corpse is still rotting in its coffin. But you know, he could never love you as much as I did."

"I would never–"

"Then look at me, Madara!"

"Izuna, _please_–"

"_Look at me!_"

Hikaku stared down at him with a worried frown, his hands firmly grasping Madara's arm as if he'd been trying to shake him awake. Madara's heavy breaths were the only thing making sound in the tent for a while, eyes open wide as he gazed at Hikaku's every feature, just to make sure everything was real and that the tormentor with Izuna's voice had left. His mind could barely keep up anymore, longing to drift off into a deep sleep and let everything else go for a while. Hikaku seemed to notice his dreariness.

"Just hold on, for a little longer." the young man asked quietly, the firm grip on his arm turning into a gentle touch. "We'll get you the cure in no time." Hikaku didn't ask about the obvious fact that Madara had been hallucinating. It was one of the things the clan leader appreciated in him; he knew almost instinctively when there were certain things you just couldn't ask another person. The younger Uchiha stared down at him a while longer.

"I'll get you some more water." He moved to leave, when Madara stopped him with a question.

"How long has it been?"

"A while." Hikaku replied stoically, and his leader got the feeling he was hiding something. Upon seeing Madara's disapproving scowl, Hikaku sighed wearily, standing up and putting his hands through his already disheveled hair. His ponytail was gone, hair hanging loosely over his shoulders for a change.

"If you must know, Tobirama's division got attacked a while ago. Everything should be okay, but Hashirama and a few of our men went to check anyway."

"A few of _our _men?"

"Yes, he… he ordered them to follow, and considering the situation–" Hikaku stopped himself when he realized that nothing he could say would probably make it right then. He shouldn't have let it slip; Madara was already in a vulnerable state and he'd potentially made it worse by adding stress. Madara looked away from him, letting his head rest more comfortably on his pillow, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Madara?" Hikaku tried hesitantly. Madara didn't move to look at him again.

"Leave me be." he just said, voice raspy, as he laid there in the dark. "I won't fall asleep, I can assure you that much." he added at hearing no movement from Hikaku, a bitter, wry tone to his voice.

When the young man eventually – and very reluctantly – left, Madara enjoyed the silence for a while, though that didn't last for long. His pain and the fever had moved to the background of his consciousness as something much more agonizing consumed most of his thoughts.

He stared ahead of him, into the darkness of the tent for a while, until he saw something stir there. The shadow returned with a cruel smile.

"Can't sleep, brother?"

This time it wore Izuna's face.

* * *

**Lol you guys, I can't believe some of you actually thought I would kill off Tobirama so randomly. Don't worry! If I kill anyone off, I'll be sure NOT to tell you beforehand. Like Hideki. God, the Hy****ūga get shafted even in MY fanfic. That's kind of sad.**

**Random sidenote: I am thoroughly annoyed with where the manga has been going.**

**Other random sidenote: idk wtf happened with this site but it didn't alert me for any reviews (except for 1 who was posted just yesterday) so at first I had a panic attack and thought no one cared about the fic anymore (should've seen my face; look of pure despair, I'm tellin' ya) and THEN I realized no, this website just sucks so I can't really reply to anyone's reviews.**

**So informal reply to everyone now: I love you all. Forever. And ever. And ever. Accept my love dammit.**


	29. Inevitability

**Inevitability**

Hashirama saw two medics fretting over the younger Senju's injuries as he sat against a tree, trying his best to ignore them while they healed him, regarding the aftermath of the battle silently. Several trees had been destroyed; dulled weapons and broken puppet parts scattered around the ground, together with the corpses of fallen shinobi. Those from Konoha were already being covered in blankets and carried back towards the camp. They would be buried home after the war.

When Tobirama spotted Hashirama and Sasuke, he watched them draw closer with a cool expression, glancing once at the medic-nin on his right who pulled his sleeve up in order to heal the deep gash on his upper arm. Hashirama's relief didn't show on his face as he approached his younger brother. Tobirama did not meet his gaze a second time.

"Well, seems like you took care of everything." Hashirama remarked at the tense silence. He looked over the younger Senju. His left leg and right arm were injured badly, his armor was covered in blood and dirt, battered and in dire need of replacement. Sasuke saw this as well.

"You got beaten up pretty badly. What happened? You managed to fend them off but–" The Sarutobi paused with an inquisitive look at the scowl on his friend's face. "Well, you don't look to good."

"I was reckless." Tobirama admitted, closing his eyes as his face was colored green by the light the medic's jutsu radiated as his arm was being healed. He turned to hesitantly face his brother. "Hashirama, Hideki is…." He didn't finish his sentence and he didn't need to. Hashirama had already spotted two other Hyūga clan members leaning over what seemed to be Hideki's lifeless body, several feet away.

He watched for a while longer, then turned away.

"That is unfortunate."

It was sad that he wasn't even surprised by death anymore.

Sasuke wasn't able to retain his composure as well as Hashirama, however. "_Shit_," he muttered with horror-struck look, gazing at Hideki's corpse as it was covered with a blanket. "I-I didn't think he would… of all people… how did he…?" Seeming to be lost, he turned to Tobirama for answers.

"He was helping another; forgot to watch his back." the injured Senju explained quietly, glaring down at the ground. "I lost my cool after that."

"Went on a rampage, huh?" Hashirama noted as he looked over the damage done to the environment one last time, before he shifted his sharp gaze back to his brother. "Don't let that happen again." he told him with a stern frown. Tobirama sighed, and lowered his head.

"I know, it won't." He then, seemingly irritated, waved the medics away. "It's fine, go heal other people." The two gave him a reluctant look before they got up and looked for other shinobi who were injured. "So, what's the situation with your boyfr– er, Madara?" Sasuke blinked, wondering if he'd heard that right as Hashirama rubbed his forehead exasperatedly.

"I think I convinced the kid to give us the cure. If he does, after this war is over, I'll let him go." he explained as Tobirama slowly got up from the ground.

"Figured you'd make a deal like that." the white-haired man mumbled while looking over his healed leg and partially-healed arm. "Well, time to collect some prisoners then."

"Some are still alive?" Hashirama asked, slightly surprised he hadn't just killed everyone. He'd once witnessed one of Tobirama's rampages, and no enemy back then had survived it.

"I wasn't exactly focused on killing as much as I just wanted to cut them down." Tobirama scoffed, walking to the left, near the bushes where one puppet user lay on the ground; seemingly dead as his clothes were covered in blood. Hashirama followed while Sasuke stayed behind, deciding to help with the "clean-up" instead. Some of his friends were among the dead, after all.

Hashirama watched Tobirama kneel down, checking the Suna shinobi's pulse. "Still alive." The younger sibling looked up to his older brother. "Mind if I take care of this guy?"

"You want to take him prisoner?" Hashirama asked, a little puzzled; if left alone the man would probably bleed to death, and there was no political gain from taking him prisoner either. Suna wasn't very kind to failures.

"He could be useful to me."

Hashirama crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "Useful in what way?"

"It's complicated–"

"Tobirama, _what _do you intend to do with him?"

"Look," Tobirama snapped, clearly getting impatient with Hashirama's questioning, "I'll tell you all about it after this, alright? Now is really not the time and place." When it was clear the older one wouldn't budge with at least a little information, Tobirama reluctantly threw him a hint. "It has to do with this jutsu I've been working on. The one… _Madara _helped me with." Hashirama stayed silent for a while, staring down at him with an intense look, before he sighed and nodded.

"I have a bad feeling about this. I hope you know what you're doing."

"Oh ye of little faith… hurry along now. Wouldn't want to miss Madara choke to death on poison, would we?"

"He won't–"

"How do you know that with certainty?" Tobirama taunted him with a smirk. "He could be on his death bed right now and you'd be missing his last moments." Hashirama paled slightly, casting him an angry glare.

"Tobirama!"

"I'm just saying." His brother shrugged nonchalantly. "If I were you, I'd get going–" No sooner had he said that and Hashirama had already turned his back on him – the men he'd came with left behind to help Tobirama's division out. "Tch, he's so predictable." the younger Senju sneered as he stared down at the injured puppet user in front him, before gesturing a medic-nin to come help. As he'd suspected, Hashirama had cut a deal with the kid to save Madara, so he'd have to make do with these Suna shinobi as his test subjects for Edo Tensei. He'd have to tell Hashirama _eventually_, but he planned to complete it before that happened.

It wasn't like he was only doing it just to stretch the boundary of how far you could go with jutsu; overcoming death itself was a nice feat but hardly practical in everyday life. Sure, once he'd mastered the technique any enemies would be completely at his mercy and that was the main goal of the jutsu, but there was an added bonus to it. He really _did _want to be able to bring Izuna back for a while, though not for Madara's sake. He figured, since the man was becoming a loose cannon and might turn against Konoha in the near future, having a dead Izuna on his side – voluntarily or not, as emotional blackmail or whatever else – could never hurt.

* * *

Hikaku sat near the campfire, surrounded by his fellow clansmen as they talked amongst each other while he remained mostly quiet. Saboten, under the watchful eye of two other Uchiha several feet removed from the campfire, was busy making a cure, while a third Uchiha was looking for further ingredients in the forest.

Madara had wished to be alone, and so he was, even if Hikaku really didn't feel comfortable with leaving him there. He'd been calling out Izuna's name and if that wasn't a telltale sign that the man was starting to lose it, then Hikaku didn't know what was. He could only hope the cure would be finished in time, and Madara would somehow pull himself together – but from what he was hearing from the others gathered around the campfire, the future didn't look too bright.

"Oi, Hikaku, how's mister high-and-mighty doing?" one of them asked with a mocking tone, clearly inebriated; even if they talked about Madara behind his back, none of them sober would've been stupid enough to berate him in front of Hikaku.

"Did you see his face when we first set out against Suna? Bastard was pretty happy to see battle again, wasn't he?"

"That war-monger won't ever change, mark my words."

Another one laughed bitterly at that. "Of course, he has his fun on the battlefield while we die like dogs! How ironic how the tables have turned now, eh?!"

"Ha, maybe we should give a thank-you note to that Suna kid!"

Hikaku decided he'd heard just about enough.

"In case you hadn't noticed, right now I'd be perfectly within my rights to slit all of your traitorous throats and no one would bat an eye." he remarked casually, pulling out his small dagger, calmly watching the light of the fire glint off its pale blade. The circle around the campfire had instantly fallen silent.

The one who'd spoken last laughed nervously."H-hey now, we were just joking around, right guys?"

"Sure, just joking!"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely!" Hikaku shot them a last warning glare as he put the dagger back in its sheath, seeming to be the only one who was relaxed as the rest of his clansmen remained tense the rest of the night through as they went to sleep one by one. Hikaku wasn't all that surprised to hear these things, of course, but it still infuriated him each time he heard it, and _especially _in this kind of situation. Being dissatisfied with Madara was one thing – talking behind his back while the man lay nearly dying on his bed was another. They were lucky they'd had the excuse of being drunk.

After a while he found himself being the only one who was still up, poking around the campfire but eventually growing tired and letting it sizzle out on its own as he waited. It got colder as the night went on, gradually approaching morning. He had a horrible perception of time so he didn't know whether it had been a few minutes or almost a whole hour until Saboten finally stood up, and his guards looked relieved to be able to go to sleep.

"Is it done?" Hikaku asked as he stood up as well. The boy nodded as he approached him, holding a small pot filled with a liquid – probably the cure. "I'll give it to him. Stay here."

When Hikaku entered the tent with the cure in hand, it wasn't a moment too soon; the clan leader was trembling, his breath raspy as blood leaked down his chin and throat, eyes half-open and dulled, pupils moving rapidly as if he were having a nightmare. Hikaku didn't waste any more time as he swiftly kneeled beside Madara, lifting his head up slightly.

"I… Izu…." the man whimpered, grasping Hikaku's arm so harshly he buried his nails into the skin. "Izuna,_ Izuna_–" Hikaku couldn't tell whether he was being tormented by some sort of vision or was tormenting himself – nor which possibility would disturb him more.

"Madara, calm down!" he spoke in an attempt to get through to him. "I have the cure here, take a sip–" He lifted the cup against Madara's lips, carefully pouring the contents into his mouth. Madara coughed heavily, barely able to swallow the thick substance. "Come on, you have to drink it up!"

The man blinked slowly, seeming to regain his sanity somewhat as Hikaku tried again; tilting the cup more gently. Madara had another short coughing fit though he pulled through it this time, swallowing it all down within a few seconds. Hikaku let his head rest down as he pulled his hand away and his arm out of Madara's grasp. He watched his clan leader vigilantly in case the cure didn't work. The man was still staring ahead of himself for a while before he blinked again a few times, then brought his hands up and covered his face.

"That tasted like shit."

Hikaku breathed a heavy sigh of relief, as he'd almost feared it had been too late. Madara still looked in pretty bad shape, but it seemed he wasn't hallucinating anymore and the trembling had stopped as well.

"I have to admit, you had me worried there for a–" Hikaku frowned, stopping mid-sentence when Madara lowered his hands and slowly sat upright. "Madara, you really shouldn't be moving around right now. Even with the cure your body still needs sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Charming," Hikaku scoffed, rolling his eyes and forcefully pushing the man back down. "I'm serious. You can't be up and about in this state."

"If I move around the cure will spread faster." Madara replied dryly, pushing Hikaku's hands off his shoulders and sitting up again, looking around in the tent. He seemed exhausted and was still covered in sweat, but he wasn't panting anymore. There was, however, a look in his eyes Hikaku couldn't quite place. He must've been still mentally shaken up by the hallucinations, his mind in turmoil, because he didn't appear to be quite at ease. It was understandable, the younger Uchiha supposed, but he wondered whether it would have any lasting consequences.

"Madara? You're up already?" The two turned to look at the opening in the tent, seeing Hashirama crouching low near the entrance as he'd been about to enter. Hikaku didn't miss Madara averting his gaze and avoiding eye-contact, nor did he miss the vexed look Hashirama gave as a response.

"I heard Tobirama's division got ambushed."

"That they did. It's all under control now, though."

"I see."

Hikaku looked from one to the other after that awkward bit of conversation, feeling trapped in the crossfire of a battle he had no business in witnessing in the first place.

"Is it alright for you to be moving around this soon?" Hashirama asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence as he sat across Madara, briefly staring at the empty cup holding remnants of the cure Madara had drunk.

"It's nothing I can't handle." the Uchiha leader replied apathetically, staring down at his own form with a deep scowl. "I need a bath. Where's the nearest lake or river?"

Hikaku had to protest that. "You're really not well enough to be walking around already. What if you pass out from a lack of energy and hit your head or drown?" His clan leader seemed ready to scold him before he glanced at Hashirama, seeming to change his mind about something.

"Fine, then come with me to make sure nothing happens." Hikaku thought this a surprising solution, since Madara had always been a very private person. He opened his mouth to agree when he was interrupted.

"You don't need to bother, Hikaku. I'll go with him. I'm sure you need some rest." Hashirama stated with a friendly smile – though there was something off about his tone. Hikaku couldn't quite pinpoint what. Madara narrowed his eyes.

"You're the commander of the entire army. What about _your _rest?" he questioned, visibly annoyed. Hashirama brushed it off jokingly.

"Are you worried about me now?"

"I just don't want to get embarrassed by my supposed leader making a fatal mistake due to sleep deprivation."

"Excuses, excuses."

"I think I'll just take my leave, then." Hikaku mumbled, feeling completely out of place as he stood up. "Try to catch some sleep as well." he added before he left to his own tent, feeling like he'd intruded on something very private. For some reason he never felt at ease in the presence of those two together. He had his suspicions but he chose not to think about it, indifferent to what was going on behind the scenes as long as it didn't become a problem.

In the meantime, Hashirama and Madara had been left in a tense silence, neither sure where to start, what to think, or what to even say. Madara's head was still clouded by a hundred different thoughts about Izuna, for once Hashirama not being the first thing on his mind. The Senju himself was unsure what to make of this whole situation or Madara's odd behavior. He carefully reached out his hand to brush his fingers over Madara's cheek, but when the other flinched, he pulled back confusedly, casting his lover an inquiring look.

"I really need a bath." Madara stated quietly, getting up and feeling relieved to stretch his legs again, though Hashirama wasn't about to let him slip away that easily. As the Uchiha leader moved to get outside, feeling relieved when he felt a cool breeze breathe over his skin, his rival was right on his heels.

"If there's something you want to talk about–"

"I don't think that would help right now." Madara interrupted him brusquely as he stared ahead, to the forest surrounding their camp. "Lake?" Hashirama frowned but didn't say anything else as he started walking, at least glad they had some time alone together while he opted to show his lover the way.

"Could you just tell me what's bothering you?" he asked, trying not to sound frustrated as he walked in a slow pace Madara could still keep up with. He'd peek over his shoulder every so often to make sure the man wasn't falling behind, as it seemed he refused to walk next to Hashirama for some reason.

"It's not a specific thing I can pinpoint so easily." Madara regretted not putting any shoes on as the small twigs and stones were pricking uncomfortably into the bottom of his feet while they walked through the quiet forest. Hashirama pushed overhanging branches out of the way for him, stuck in another silence. He didn't want to force the issue, and while Madara was glad to ignore it, there were just some questions he had that could not be left alone.

"Where do we stand?"

Hashirama halted, turning around, visibly startled as he gave Madara an inquisitive look before he tried to answer. "We're… er… hmm. That's a good question."

"That's not a good answer."

"Well, I can't exactly call you my wife. I mean, unless you're into–"

"Don't even finish that sentence." Madara glowered at him as they continued to walk again, faintly hearing the sound of water splashing against rocks nearby. "Besides, we're not even married."

Hashirama shrugged. "Who decides who's married and who's not anyway?"

"Either way, I don't like the thought of it. It makes me feel old and chained down." Madara replied irritably, to which Hashirama gave him a playful glance.

"Would you prefer _boyfriend_ then?"

"I- no!" Madara sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his temples. "Look, the word doesn't matter, I just need to know where we are and where we're going." They stepped over a few bushes to end up in a wide clearing in the forest, a wide waterfall with a deep lake – the source of a long, narrow river meandering through the landscape. The two stood next to each other as they regarded the body of water for a few seconds, before Hashirama turned to his companion, furrowing his brows as he took Madara's hands into his own.

"I love you. Isn't that enough?"

Madara nearly cringed, avoiding the gaze of those smoky black eyes as he glared down at their intertwined fingers. "No, it's not. I need you to understand me."

"But I do." Hashirama responded, clearly confused. "What's this about?"

"Where do we go from here? Do we even have a future?" Madara pulled his hands out of Hashirama's grip. "Do you even think about these things at all?"

"We'll just figure it out as we go along–" The Senju reached for him again but he took a step back, rejecting the contact.

"We've been doing that for a while now, and I can't be satisfied with just that." Madara regarded him for a moment longer before he looked away at the waterfall. "You don't understand. I figured you wouldn't. We just don't think the same way."

"Just tell me what the problem is."

"_You're _my problem!" Madara blurted out, shocking Hashirama into silence. "I can't _think _right when you're around; it took me being on the _brink of death_ to realize we're going absolutely nowhere like this! What do you think will happen when you take over the village, Hashirama? Do you honestly believe I'll sit back and watch, let you boss me around, suffocate me even more with your presence?"

"I wouldn't boss you around, and you're overreacting, nothing's going to change when I–"

"Do you really believe that?"

"If you stop making a mountain out of a molehill then we'll be just fine! Nothing has to change if you just calm down and be reasonable about this. I'm sure everything will turn out alright."

"I swear that damn optimism of yours is going to be the death of me." Madara growled, turning his back on Hashirama and walking straight into the lake, not even bothering to pull his pants off as he dived underwater, trying to literally cool off. Hashirama watched from the sidelines, entirely aggravated that Madara was worrying so much. Even if the both of them knew Hashirama becoming the leader would be difficult to accept for the stubborn Uchiha, he'd have to get used to it _eventually_. What else would he do? Leave?

As Madara came up for air, Hashirama froze for just a second.

He _would _leave. That was why Madara was so anxious; he'd see no other option but to leave if it really came down to it, and Hashirama had overlooked this completely as he'd opted to try and stay positive no matter what, mainly to reassure himself. He'd been selfish, which had resulted in his lover feeling misunderstood and alienated. Madara needed a reason to stay – love wasn't enough. His clan had basically turned its back on him, the majority of the villagers didn't like him much either, and if the only other person besides Hikaku to truly care about him was the very source of his aggravation – well, Hashirama couldn't say he'd be accepting if Madara left, but he'd at least understand.

Was there nothing he could do to stop this from happening? Could he not reason with Madara, or his clan, or even somehow try to talk the village out of wanting him to be Hokage?

As he sat down on the ground, regarding Madara with a glumly contemplative look, he wracked his brain for an answer as the other man bathed in an oddly tranquil state. The Uchiha's mind was elsewhere entirely as he stared down into the water, washing his hair and body, hands traveling up and down his chest and abdomen. Another time, Hashirama would've been mesmerized by this all too alluring scene and would've felt inclined to join him.

But his heart felt empty and a sense of desperation sank into the pit of his stomach as he realized, that for the first time, he did not have an answer. No solution to the conflict. This was the first time a situation was entirely out of his grasp. All the strength in the world would not fix this – everyone so bullheaded, so stuck in their own little prejudices that no one would yield. The Uchiha clan would not budge, the village would not budge, Madara would not budge – and Hashirama could not move them no matter what he did, no matter what he said.

The best chance he'd have was to plead with Madara to stay; but he already knew what the outcome would be. Even if he, somehow, managed to stall him, it was an inevitability that the clan leader would eventually walk away from not only them, but the village they'd created together. Hashirama wasn't sure which one hurt the most.

Madara then turned to him slightly, glancing at him as he floated in the water – shoulders still tense. The Senju leader met his brief gaze with a dismal one of his own. It was written in his rose red eyes; _he would leave_.

For the first time in his life, Hashirama was completely powerless.

* * *

**Aaaand more depression, yay!**

**I promise things will get better. Slightly. When the war is over. Maybe for like a single chapter. Haha. **

**After that, well, prepare for heartbreak.**

**And after that… well,_ I_ already know what's going to happen, but you can still place your bets! Do you think I'll go for a happy ending, or a sad one? Maybe a bittersweet one? Which of the three do you _think_ I'll choose, and which one do you _hope _I'll choose? :P**

**Anyway I found my inspiration for the semi-AU fic I'm planning after this one. Same universe, just… wildly different premise. It took me so long to come up with it that I could hear my brain crack after a while, but I finally found the perfect plot and I'll be damned if it doesn't surpass this one. Call me ambitious but I don't see the point in writing more if there's no room for improvement/learning. God knows my lemon scenes can get better.**

**Anyways, your awesome feedback is invaluable guys, thank you so much! Hope you liked this one; see ya soon!**


	30. Severing

**Severing**

Everyone was impressed, though not surprised, by how effectively Hashirama had commanded the army – only reaffirming that he was the most suitable choice to take charge of Konohagakure. Suna was backed in a corner and had very few options left. Now, it was only a matter of patience before the war would be decided; the war that had been followed very closely by the rest of the Shinobi World. It had been a means to measure how strong this alliance named Konoha actually was, and so far, it didn't look like anyone could actually ever come close.

The regular tension between the Senju and the Uchiha had faded somewhat – the Uchiha blaming most of their woes on Madara now, and in turn, they were getting along much better with the Senju.

When morning broke through the thick canopy of the forest, Hikaku was the first to wake up. The shinobi that had been keeping watch a small distance away from camp seemed relieved to see him when he approached, though he was distracted by something else entirely.

"Has Madara returned yet?"

The two exchanged looks and both shook their heads. Hikaku scowled slightly at this, concerned and frustrated even though he knew Hashirama would take care of him. He just wasn't comfortable now, after all that had transpired, to lose Madara out of his sight for too long. He hadn't been able to do a thing for him through the strain Izuna's death had put on him, which still weighed heavily on his chest, but this time would be different. He wasn't going to let Madara push him away again.

Still, at the moment all he could do was hang around at camp and wait for him to return. Suna had been quiet, no doubt recovering from the blows Konoha had dealt it on multiple fronts – having won most of the battles and sending Suna limping back to its own side.

Although it was never a good idea to get overconfident, Hikaku was fairly convinced this would end up as a win for Konoha. After that no doubt more Hidden Villages would form; more war would break out. It seemed there would be no end to the conflict.

Hikaku sat down near the sizzled out campfire, staring at the ashes the burnt wood had left behind as he waited patiently, not thinking of anything in particular. The morning light was dull – or perhaps it was because of the environment that the camp seemed so dreary. Not even the distant chirps of the birds did anything to lighten the air.

A distinct sound of rustling bushes drew his attention after about ten minutes or so, Madara's pale form slipping out from between the trees with such bearing you'd never think he'd been poisoned just the night before. Hikaku stood up immediately, looking him over to see if he was really alright. He certainly looked better – the unhealthily pallid color of his skin had returned to its regular, more natural pale shade and his eyes were clear and alert, not glazed over anymore.

"Where were you?" Hikaku asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Madara spared him a single, cool glance as he passed him and walked towards his tent. "Elsewhere."

Hikaku bit back an insult as he followed him, until Madara suddenly stopped right in front of his tent, turning to scowl at the younger man.

"Were you planning on watching me change?"

Hikaku blinked, averting his gaze with an embarrassed look. "N-no, but–"

"Oh? Look who's back." The both of them turned their heads to look at three other clansmen who'd already woken up and were glowering at Madara, who stared back apathetically. Hikaku glared back, less tolerant of their attitude after the things he'd heard last night.

"Where did you run off to in the middle of the night?"

"Seems hardly proper for the clan leader to leave without even telling anyone else."

"Tch, couldn't have expected anything else–"

All of them, as well as Hikaku who'd started growing severely agitated at their disrespectful behavior, stilled completely when Madara suddenly took a step in the trio's direction and approached them quietly.

He stared down the man in the middle, the one with very short, thick, dark hair and narrow eyes, who seemed clearly taken aback at the ice cold demeanor.

A single kick and he found himself on his hands and knees in front of Madara, the two who'd been flanking his sides having taken several steps back at the sudden, swift movements. Others had woken up by then and were watching the scene unfold.

Madara remained quiet as he glared down at the man, his Sharingan flaring. "Small fry." he scoffed amused, shifting his sharp gaze to the other two. "Seems like you forgot why I became the clan leader in the first place. It wasn't because of my looks, I assure you. Would you like me to remind you?"

The two hastily made their apologies while the third man on the ground gave Madara a look full of hatred – which didn't sit too well with him. When the man tried getting up, he felt a sharp blow to his back and fell down on the ground, face-first.

"Did I give you permission to stand up, Daichi?"

"N-no, sir. I… apologize…."

"The next time you try being a smartass, don't forget to actually include the _'smart_' part."

It was obvious Daichi was trying his hardest not to retort, since he'd be a dead man if he actually did. "Yes, sir."

While Madara's tone was cool, Hikaku could see he'd completely lost all patience for the rest of the clan, having grown sick of constantly being questioned and his authority being challenged. Hikaku couldn't blame him, though he wasn't sure whether this was the right way to handle it.

Madara shot a glance at the people who'd been watching the scene play out. "What are you gawking at? Don't you have something more productive to do?" he snapped, his annoyance clearly showing now. The men moved at his sneer, soft murmurs passing through them as Madara walked off, disappearing into his tent without another word. Hikaku was a little lost on what to do now, and instead opted to walk over to Daichi who angrily heaved himself up from the ground, not having noticed Madara's second-in-command.

"That bastard, who does he think he is–"

"He's your clan leader. You'd do well to remember that." Daichi was visibly started, taking a step back at being confronted with Hikaku's glare.

"Yeah, well…." He didn't finish his sentence though it was easy to guess what he'd be thinking. "Your loyalty is… _admirable_, but even you have to admit that he's gone a little too far."

"Too far with what? Being concerned about the Senju?" Hikaku mocked. "Do you honestly think erring on the side of caution is a bad thing?" Before Daichi could respond, Hikaku turned away. "I shouldn't bother. Nothing I say will get through that thick head of yours anyway. Just watch your language from now on."

Daichi gritted his teeth, compelled to bite back, but managed to reign in his temper and nodded, stalking off angrily to help clean up the camp.

Hikaku watched him briefly, and found that the possibility of turning this situation around had grown slimmer and slimmer.

* * *

The night they'd spent near the lake had been quiet, neither of them having had anything to say. Hashirama thought back and wondered if he _should've _said something, even if he hadn't known what. Their path seemed to have been laid out for them; destiny had drawn a thick line towards their destruction – towards the severing of the red string that had been binding them together.

But he would try. It was all he could do, even if it would amount to nothing in the end, at least he'd take solace in the fact that he'd tried.

Suddenly Hashirama found a millions different things to tell Madara, right when he'd already left him. He had no doubt that when he saw the man again all those thoughts swirling in his mind would disappear and he'd be left without anything to say once again; facing him always had a way of making Hashirama swallow his words and try to put up a smile instead.

He watched the night turn into morning as he'd stayed seated in front of the lake even long after Madara had already left. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for and he knew he should return to his camp, but the strange calm that had settled over him prevented him from getting up until the sunshine shone clear and bright through the trees, finally prompting him to stand up.

A deep sigh escaped his lips without him even noticing as he trudged west, stepping over a few thick bushes and taking his time to walk back towards his own camp. Before he could even arrive, however, he was met halfway by Tobirama.

"There you are." the silver haired male said with an exasperated sigh when spotting him. Hashirama opened his mouth to comment on how his brother shouldn't be running around with his injuries, when he stopped himself the minute another question came to mind.

"Did something happen?"

Tobirama frowned mildly as he answered. "Not yet, but it's likely Suna will launch its final, head-on attack soon, probably out of desperation."

"Right," Hashirama eyed him curiously. "Any other reason why you're here?"

"Just checking on you. How'd it go with your boyfriend?"

"Fine," he replied tersely as he started walking, Tobirama right next to him as he shot his older brother a skeptical look.

"That doesn't sound 'fine' to me."

"It's complicated."

"I'd be astonished if it wasn't. Do you want to talk about it?"

Hashirama turned his head to look at him then, the anxiety clear as day on his face as he hesitantly conveyed his latest worries to his brother, who didn't seem surprised by any of it, though still listened attentively. When he was finished speaking, he stared at Tobirama to see his reaction. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was too quick for him to understand what it had been.

"No offense, brother, but anyone could've seen this one coming from a mile away." Tobirama mused, shifting his gaze to stare ahead of them as they navigated through the numerous trees. "He could even form a threat to Konoha if–"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Hashirama interrupted him, aggravated with him even though he knew the younger sibling meant well. Konoha meant a lot to the both of them, after all, but Tobirama had never taken a moment to try and understand Madara, which had always frustrated his older brother.

"You can't avoid thinking about it forever." Tobirama pointed out in a similarly irritated tone. "If it's between him and the village, you know which one you'd have to choose."

Hashirama remained silent at that, not able to deny it. He did know which would come first, but it made him cringe even contemplating it. "Does it have to be that way?" he wondered aloud, his tone barely above that of a whisper. Tobirama didn't reply, the cogs in his head starting to turn. Hashirama noticed the deeply focused look on his face. "What is it?"

Tobirama rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, seeming to want to say something but not sure how to put it. "If… if he _does _want to leave, there could be… no, never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Tobirama–"

"_It's complicated_," he replied wryly, shooting Hashirama's words right back him, though the faint smirk on his face faded when he saw the serious expression on his brother's face. He wasn't going to let him slip out of this one. "Alright, I just… had this idea, that might influence him somewhat."

Hashirama blinked, puzzled at the vague statement. "Influence _how_?"

"I told you it was complicated. It depends on… let's just say it can go either way."

"Start talking."

Tobirama was tempted to just screw his mouth shut but the intent look Hashirama shot him was enough for him to decide to lay down his secrets and hope for the best. "It's… about the technique I've been working on."

Hashirama's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent. Tobirama took a moment to search for the right words before he reluctantly began to tell him about the workings of Edo Tensei, not looking at him once during his entire story.

After he finished telling him that, _maybe_, there was a chance if he actually managed to bring back Izuna to life for a short period of time, it could have an impact on Madara that might change the outcome of everything – good or bad, he didn't know.

When he finally decided to look at his brother again, the disturbed look on his face said it all. Hashirama had looked alarmed plenty of times before, angry as well – but actually _disturbed_?

"You do realize that if this technique of yours _ever _falls into the wrong hands–"

"Don't you think I've already thought of that?" Tobirama cut in brusquely. "I'm just saying that the option is on the table." Hashirama merely shook his head, brushing his hand through his hair as he stared down at the ground in thought.

"It could backfire."

"That depends mostly on Izuna. But if Madara starts forming a threat, it's the best– no, rather, it's the _only _idea I have at the moment."

"I still do not like the sound of it." Hashirama's eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Moreover, sacrificing another living person to–"

"You can lecture me about it later." Tobirama interrupted again, really not in the mood to get preached at. "For now, just keep it in mind." Hashirama sighed and conceded, not really in the mood to give him a speech on ethics anyway.

The camp finally came into sight after five minutes of a silent walk, though it was still mostly hidden away by the forest surrounding it. It was surprisingly quiet as everyone seemed to be preparing for the oncoming battle. Tobirama soon split and headed off to his own division – still injured but planning to fight anyway. Hashirama hadn't even attempted to talk him out of it as he knew him well enough to know he would never sit back.

More importantly, next to the repercussions of this war, he'd have to think about what Tobirama had said. A technique to summon the dead – Izuna specifically. Madara had helped Tobirama create it. That meant he too, most likely, would want to summon Izuna back, but how would that influence his attitude towards the village? It could only make him more angry and hostile, but on the other hand, Izuna had seemed to like the village they'd created - he could also possibly calm Madara's ire down. Perhaps even talk him into staying? No, that was probably being too hopeful.

Either way, Hashirama supposed, he'd just have to wait and see what would happen after this war, when everything had finally quieted down a bit. There were so many problems looming ahead of him that Hashirama was starting to think the only place he'd ever find his rest would be his grave.

Unless, of course, someone like Tobirama came along and pulled him right back into the world of the living.

But really, what were the odds of that actually happening?

* * *

Suna's forces burned, and Saboten could do nothing but wait.

He'd stayed behind, and perhaps it was better this way. He didn't know if he would've been able to handle what the battlefield actually looked like from a distance.

Madara took it all out on the enemy. No one in his way was spared as his Susano'o cut through troupes of shinobi like a blade cutting through paper, scattering the remains into the wind much like blood was splattered over the now red-soaked earth.

Hashirama tried keeping an eye on him, and seeing his seething form concerned him somewhat, opting him to try and make sure the battle was ended as fast as possible. If the Uchiha leader had his way the entire Suna force would be utterly decimated – getting poisoned by a kid really didn't sit well with him, so this was his way of payback.

The battlefield was far and wide, bordering on the deserts as the Suna army was gradually being pushed back. The Kazekage – though his sand manipulation was impressive, it just couldn't match up to the Konoha founders – was feeling the heat.

Madara targeted him instantly, yelling at others to take care of the trash around him while he headed towards the Kazekage who hadn't noticed him at first since Hashirama was getting dangerously close to him as well. It gave Madara an opportunity to take him by surprise with an almost recklessly powerful fire technique blazing through several soldiers. It nearly scorched the Kazekage too had he not hidden behind a wall of sand long enough for several other Suna shinobi to counter it with a water jutsu, though it wasn't enough to put it out entirely.

"Tch, can't even put such a small fire out?" he sneered as he materialized his Susano'o once again, using its undulating blades to smash down the wall of sand.

The Kazekage, faced with this terrifyingly mighty power had started to realize his options had slowly run out. It would either come down to death for him, or a timely surrender. He was not weak by any means; but Hashirama's Mokuton shaping the battlefield constantly to Konoha's advantage and Madara's furious, unrelenting attacks were simply too much for him to handle.

Saboten, meanwhile, simply kept waiting as it was the only thing he could do in his position. He could see the huge streams of smoke in the distance, and as time passed, he grew more and more anxious. His guards wouldn't let him out of his sight, but the urge to know what had become of his fellow Suna shinobi had been gnawing at him for hours on end.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what he outcome would be because there was no other; but he kept hoping for a miracle. Even if most of them had treated him like dirt for a large part of his life, he still wouldn't wish death on his comrades as they formed the only world he'd ever known. So he kept pacing around the near-empty Uchiha camp, he kept praying to whatever deity would hear his pleas, he kept hope.

It was shattered the instant he saw that form emerge from between the trees ahead – a better harbinger of death there had never been. His heart sunk as he watched the cruel smile play on those lips when the Uchiha clan leader spotted him – _mocking him_, without even saying another word as he was followed by his subordinates.

Madara approached him, armor and parts of his face stained with thick, dark red blood, bringing with him the scent of fire. Saboten was nailed to the ground as if turned into a statue, eyes wide as if he couldn't believe it even though he'd known this would happen. He'd known this was what it would all amount to.

"Time to go home," Madara spoke to him in a soft tone, triumph glistening in his eyes – entirely overpowering the small hint of pity – as they examined the despairing expression on the boy's face.

Saboten's head hung low as he fought off tears, shoulders trembling as he bit back a choked sob.

Madara sighed, the feeling of victory now fleeting as it slipped through his grasp, making him avert his gaze from the youth who was trying desperately not to cry.

Wars always ended the same.

* * *

**I am a nervous wreck right now because I'm getting my exam results tomorrow and so I wrote this whole thing in a single day because omfg nerves. Was gonna post this earlier I was kind of a mess so editing took long.**

**Also I have just come to the realization that this story has very few chapters left. Like, maybe 2-4. **

**Oh, and I also already finished the last chapter for this fic which I can't even**

**Ok I won't spoil you but just afjnedsfnsjktfklsfdafoiamkjkhfj**

**Ahem… in other news, my other HashiMada fic is progressing well! I don't have a summary yet… but I finished the first chapter (somehow). It'll be named Pieces of Bright. I'm actually going to involve their family more in that one as well (their moms being an essential point for the plot) but that's all I'm giving away right now :P**

**Also, I'm writing some HashiMada drabbles/one-shots on tumblr (as well as for other characters), so if you wanna read 'em, request one or just drop by and chat/hang out with me, check the link for my tumblr page on my profile.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, and I'll see ya next time!**


	31. Daze

**Daze**

"I wonder when they're coming back," Satoko Sarutobi sighed almost woefully, completely neglecting her work in the dango shop to sit at Mito's table and chat with her and her cousin, Chizuru. Though really, Chizuru and Satoko were the ones doing most of the talking. Mito was just staring out the window, adding in a small remark every now and then.

"That's like the third time you've asked that question." the curly-haired Uzumaki replied wryly, leaning forward a little to take a bite of her food.

Satoko pouted. "I can't help it! The village is so empty now and besides, I'm worried about their safety too."

"You mean _Hashirama's _safety." Chizuru teased with a toothy grin, making the petite Sarutobi girl blush heavily.

"Oh! Sh-shut up, you!"

"Hehe, you'd do well to put him out of your mind already. He's definitely going for Mito–"

"He is _not_." Mito finally spoke up a little irritated; it wasn't the first time she'd had to correct her cousin who didn't seem to believe her for one bit. Then again, Mito could hardly retort by telling her that Hashirama was only interested in Madara, so she just had to endure it.

"That's what _you_ say." Chizuru replied teasingly, though her mischievous look soon turned into one of curiosity. "So if you're not into him, who are you into anyway?"

Mito sighed. "I'm not into anyone." Both Satoko and Chizuru gawked at her with their mouths half-open, before the Sarutobi seemed to have an epiphany.

"Ah, I see! Then Madara is more your type, right?"

If ever Mito had felt the need to bang her head against the table, this would be it. She certainly wouldn't deny that both men were highly attractive, and she supposed she'd had a small crush on Hashirama for a while – but there was just no such chemistry between her and Madara whatsoever, probably because their first meeting hadn't left any good impressions.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone has a shot with that guy." Chizuru continued the conversation without waiting for Mito's response. "He's always so aloof."

Mito would have disagreed, but then again she was a special case of being one of the few who'd actually been able to get close to him – or more specifically, get under his skin without making a conscious effort to. She leaned back into her seat while looking through the mostly empty dango shop, starting to drift away from the conversation once again until Satoko said something that caught her interest.

"But when they get back, they're going to elect him, right?"

"Obviously," Chizuru replied, twirling the dango-stick between her fingers. "Someone will have to think of a name for it though. We can hardly call him 'sir leader'."

Mito looked from one to the other, slightly puzzled. "What are you two on about now?"

"Hashirama becoming Konoha's leader." Up until now they'd had to operate with the clan leaders coming together and discussing matters amongst themselves, making decisions through debates, but that rarely ended well. The bonds they'd built the village on were simply still too fragile to be entirely relied upon. A stronger pillar was necessary and it was evident that it would have to be Hashirama.

"Oh? Is it set in stone already?" Mito commented for the sake of commenting, as it wasn't a surprise to her and her initial interest in the topic quickly started waning.

"Of course! Who else could it be?"

Someone else _did_ come to mind – but they never spoke his name. A slow, uneasy feeling then started gnawing at Mito from the back of her mind, making its way to the nucleus of her thoughts as she started contemplating the future.

What would his reaction be? She doubted he would able to stand for Hashirama being chosen over him so easily – he was the type of person that could never tolerate being second to anyone. She wondered if he would be able to do it just for Hashirama; was their bond strong enough? It was hard to tell. She didn't know their history which had shaped everything about them, and its impact would probably make the difference.

It wasn't a good feeling. Mito had been anxious about the future before, but this ominous sensation in the pit of her stomach was not a simple concern anymore like all her other troubles had been until now. She fully understood, as the scenario kept playing itself over in her head, that the two founders would soon arrive at a crossroads of fate with very few options. A severing of the bond, a destruction of an ideal, reluctant peace; those were all she could see, and though she hated to admit it, the third outcome didn't seem very likely.

* * *

By the time the sun had set, they'd returned home.

It hadn't been as relieving as Hashirama had expected it to be. There were too many things on his mind for him to relax – something that was clearly noticed by others from his tense shoulders down to the morose look in his eyes.

He'd been half-surprised to have found Saboten completely left unharmed as he'd taken the boy back to Suna's side, like he'd promised him he would. As they'd crossed over the corpse littered deserts – one look at the boy's forlorn expression had brought back the words Tōka had written for him on that yellowed sheet of paper.

The task seemed too great. Even if Konoha's children were safe – was he expected to turn away from others simply because they were from a different place? That just seemed too cruel to him, though ultimately, there was nothing he could do about it since they were out of his reach. The whole world was out of his reach, despite of his strength. The strange, unpleasant sense of powerlessness welled up inside of him again, leaving him with more and more frustration. He couldn't change other people's mindsets; humans were stubborn like that, and he was well aware of that. This would keep happening, even long after his death. The least – and at the same time, the most – he could do was to make sure that at least Konoha remained a safe haven, a beacon of peace in a world overwhelmed by strife.

Then why was he not happy to return home? Perhaps because he knew what awaited him there. He'd brokered a peace agreement with Suna after he'd forced its army on its knees, and the casualties on Konoha's side were minimal. There was no doubt in his mind the village would be set on having him as its leader, and he could do nothing but reluctantly accept. It wasn't to be Madara – and if Hashirama declined, who else was left to keep everything from falling apart?

And yet, as they approached the village gates and the sun hid underneath the earth behind them, his return home felt bleak at best.

They were welcomed with open arms when they arrived. In the midst of the crowds, Hashirama still looked away from it all; eyes searching off all the different faces. A most familiar one stuck out like a flame in dark. Despite being in the midst of it, Madara still seemed strangely detached from everyone else, even if they offered him hesitant smiles as well. He remained impassive towards their gestures of kindness; perhaps because he knew they'd be tossing him aside soon enough. A single blade in a field of flowers, was perhaps an accurate comparison.

Hashirama suppressed the great urge to push people aside and make his way over to him, to grab him by the hand and tear him away from the mass to take him to a place for them alone. Instead he looked away before they made eye-contact, turning to see his clansmen celebrating their arrival back home – some still mourning the dead amidst all of it.

He felt a hand press down on his shoulder, shifting his gaze to his brother's light smirk. "We're back home; it wouldn't kill you to take a moment to relax."

Hashirama shook his head with a sigh, making Tobirama's smirk falter as the hand dropped from his shoulder.

He trudged on to his house, wearily accepting the words of welcome, praise and happy smiles from the villagers as he did so, but he was too tired to put up a façade anymore.

The time for masks had ended.

* * *

'_He looks miserable,' _she thought as she approached him from the end of the street. He barely noticed her as it seemed he was headed to his house for some much-needed rest no doubt. Mito wondered whether he was always like this after a war, or whether something unusual had happened this time. She was unsure what to say to him at first, until he finally looked up and stopped, spotting her form but a few feet away from him.

"Hello," he said, bringing up a faint smile that barely curved his lips. She eyed him with a concerned gaze, folding her arms.

"Are you alright?" It was such a redundant question, but it was the only thing coming out of her mouth as she had no other words to speak. The faint smile turned bitter. "What happened back there?" she asked softly, studying his weary face.

"More than I would've liked." he replied, leaving her wondering.

"Is it about… him?"

Hashirama almost seemed to want to laugh at that for a moment, before the smile on his face faded altogether."It's always about him." His tone was not resentful nor somber; it was as if he'd just stated a cold, hard fact. Perhaps he even had.

"I take it things between you two didn't go very well."

"To put it mildly." He paused for a moment, stopping himself from saying more as he looked conflicted.

"What is it?"

Hashirama still seemed unsure, but eventually he told her. "He might even leave." She was confused for a moment, thinking he'd meant that Madara might leave _him_, until another, more frightening thought occurred to her.

"He'd leave _the village_?" she whispered in complete bemusement. "Why? Why on earth would he do _that_?"

"He… has his reasons. Things just haven't been going smoothly for him lately, and I think if I become Hokage on top of that, it will probably be the last straw for him."

"Er, '_Hokage_'?" Mito repeated, briefly confused by the peculiar term.

"It's a title I made up to give the leader of the village."

"It's, um… very… creative." He chuckled softly, though the amusement didn't last very long. Mito stared down at the ground in thought for a moment. "Is there nothing you can do?" she eventually asked, coming up with nothing herself.

"There are a lot of things I can do, but none of them would probably be effective. Except for–" He cut himself off, leaving his friend in curiosity. "Never mind. It's too risky anyway." he assured her – or himself. She couldn't really tell and it didn't matter either way.

"So when do you think you'll be elected?"

"As soon as possible, no doubt."

By this time people were starting to walk through the streets again, the welcoming near the gates having drawn to a close. It should've been a much more impactful sight than it had been. Hashirama seemed largely indifferent to it, despite the fact that never before had so many clans come together and celebrated a victory. It alarmed Mito, because if such a thing was not enough to draw his attention, things between him and Madara had to be very dire.

She wondered – and inevitably found that there was nothing she could do about it even if she really wanted to see things work out alright between the two of them. For now, all she could offer Hashirama were empty words of comfort.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make things work." she said with as much conviction as she could muster. He gave her an appreciative smile, though he didn't seem very convinced of it himself.

"Let's hope I do."

* * *

It felt like he'd arrived in a foreign country. Nothing about Konoha seemed welcoming to him anymore. Madara remembered its time of construction, when it had seemed like a hopeful promise between two friends. That time seemed so far away to him now, even though it had just been months ago.

He paid no attention to Hikaku, who seemed to want to say something, and neither did he respond to the strangers reluctantly welcoming him back. It wouldn't be long before he'd inexorably had to leave once more, so why waste his time?

The things he'd read on the stone tablet in the Naka Shrine came to mind. Madara almost wanted to laugh as he tossed those memories aside. Once, perhaps, he would've thought those secrets relevant. He would've thought them a means to peace – now it all seemed so childish. He knew very well something had changed in him, something – or rather, _someone_ – had tempered his resentment, his life-long pain, his wild fire, and at the same time, had completely bled him dry.

Hashirama had always balanced him on the scales, and had kept him from falling off into an endless spiral of hatred with three simple words.

'_Simple_?'

Perhaps that wasn't the way to describe it.

The place those people around him called home – had Madara been the same, he would've despised it with whatever had been left of his heart.

But as he was now, as he'd almost become someone else, Konoha left him feeling strangely apathetic; the whole world left him feeling strangely apathetic. It could go down in flames tomorrow and he'd be the only one watching silently as it burned, fascinated by the embers.

Hashirama had tempered him – and by doing so, had killed a vital part of him.

He didn't know where he was headed as he simply walked, having grown sick of being around other people, and he let his feet carry him away. Then, as if fate wanted to have a laugh at his expense, he saw the two of them standing there in the middle of the street, enveloped by the evening light as villagers passed them by.

Unlike Madara, they fit in perfectly; like a flawless work of art that captured the harmony of the village within its single scene. A spark of envy buried itself in his chest, as he knew he was but an outsider looking inwards, never meant to be a part of the painting.

That sight of the born-to-be leader and his gentle friend – compassionate villager; how immaculately she captured that image – burned itself into his retina. Madara turned away, and left before either of them had noticed him there.

He spent a long time simply wandering the village, as if saying goodbye to this place that he'd helped create and yet had never belonged to him. He was left undisturbed by those he passed along the way, though he received plenty of curious glances.

For the first time then, he visited Izuna's grave. Standing across it in silence, staring down at his stone for what felt like hours without a single thought passing through his head, he eventually grew cold, and left with a somber smile.

The sky had long turned black by the time he finally got back to his house, his feet sore from all the walking. The Uchiha district was quiet as it had always been, but that day it had a peculiar sense of tranquility – everyone all but waiting for him to make a move.

No doubt people had been talking about Hashirama's inevitable step to leadership. No doubt they expected him to do something to destroy the peace that rested over Konoha like a thick blanket. No doubt they thought he was drowning in his hatred by now.

But he felt nothing. Numbness; that feeling that had terrified him above all else. Pain he could withstand, sorrow eventually faded, love was beautiful, anger was fuel, hatred was fire, feeling was life – numbness was nothing. Non-existence.

Madara kicked his shoes off once he entered his house, Momo immediately running up towards him while mewing loudly. He was surprised the cat had gotten so attached to him; he rarely paid attention to her after all.

For once, he bent down and gently stroked her head, scratching behind her ear as she purred happily at his affection. Then he stood up, retreating to his bedroom where his armor and his clothes soon dropped down on the ground as he didn't feel the need to put them away properly for once, collapsing on his futon and drifting off into a sleep he wouldn't mind not waking up from.

* * *

Like everyone had expected, it didn't take long for a new leader – officially the Shodai Hokage – to be elected. All the clan leaders held one last meeting, to decide it, although they shouldn't have bothered. Everyone had known who it would end up being.

_Hokage_. The word left a bad taste in Madara's mouth as he'd chuckled humorlessly at the odd word Hashirama had come up with. During that meeting, they'd had eye-contact once.

Seeing the regret in Hashirama had angered him a great deal. When it had been time to congratulate him on getting the position, Madara had turned to look the other way and had briskly left the building, not at all interested in congratulating a man who did not even seemed happy with the decision, to seem to even _regret_ it. No one was surprised with his reaction – even though most mistook it as him being a sore loser.

In truth, had Hashirama been gloating about it, it probably would've hurt Madara's pride a lot less to know that he at least hadn't been defeated by someone with a half-assed resolve.

Not long after he'd left, back to wandering the streets like a stray cat, the decision was announced officially to the whole village.

The villagers all seemed to rejoice and called for a celebration. As Hashirama scanned their faces with mixed feelings while Konoha went into a new era, standing outside and surrounded by people who all wanted to congratulate him, he found that almost all of his loved ones were present.

All but the one who mattered the most.

* * *

**There. Super-fast update.** **I am now going to do absolutely nothing for a whole week.**

**Writing this chapter kind of felt like a daze for some reason. Haha, it's all going downhill! **

**I snuck in a reference to an earlier chapter in this one. I wonder if anyone will spot the reference and guess which chapter it is?**

**See ya next time!**


	32. Coldest Winter

**Coldest Winter**

They all knew time was running out.

Mito could hear it in his voice, Hikaku could see it in his eyes, Tobirama could sense it from his demeanor – Hashirama had known all along, that they'd been heading in this direction. Perhaps that was why the newly elected Shodai Hokage could barely smile anymore, despite how elated the rest of the village was. It made everyone around him worry and wonder what was wrong; it made them put the blame on Madara _again_, for ruining what should've been a happy occasion for them. Always Madara. The man could hardly take a walk without people eyeing him suspiciously everywhere he went, wondering what he was up to.

The same day the decision had been made, there was an improvised celebration. Whatever had been left of fireworks were prepared, the entire village happy to have found an excuse for yet another feast. Hashirama was hardly one to protest – but he knew Madara wouldn't be present, which aggravated him. Yet while Tobirama was complaining about how "petty" the man was being, Hashirama couldn't blame him for anything whatsoever. No, he wasn't aggravated by Madara; he was aggravated by everyone that either dismissed him or tried to portray him as some sort of villainous character only out to ruin Hashirama's happiness.

It couldn't be further from the truth. If they _knew_, if they knew even a single thing of how Madara made Hashirama's heart race, how he made him want to smile like a maniac, how he gave him a euphoric feeling in his chest that felt so warm not even a blizzard could put it out, they wouldn't have been talking such nonsense. But he couldn't tell them and they could never know – which only served to aggravate Hashirama even more.

Either way, Konoha's entirety really hadn't been on top of Madara's list of things to care about; the only reason he'd even agreed to cooperating with the Senju had been all for the sake of his clan. Always, the Uchiha clan would come first, and Konoha, in Madara's eyes, had been simply a means to protect them. Of course this had distanced him from the other villagers, but they did not understand the road he'd been forced to walk to get to this point. Still, it was no surprise that things had ended up this way.

Then, _then_ to have that same clan Madara had been willing to sacrifice everything for turn around and side with the rest of the village, the rest of Konoha – Hashirama knew _he _certainly wouldn't have been happy with that either had he been in Madara's shoes, to put it lightly. Konoha had gradually turned from an ally into a foe.

Hashirama felt uneasy. He hadn't seen Madara ever since they'd gotten back from the war, which had been a week ago, so he didn't know what mood he was in, what he was thinking – what he was planning.

He wasn't the only one that was plagued by such concerns.

* * *

Cold; his breath floating in front of his lips in small puffs as he stood in front of a large door, shivering with the arrival of winter. Hikaku knocked thrice and waited, his arms wrapped around himself, regretting not putting on something thicker. There was no response, and he knocked again. He heard Momo meowing loudly in there, scratching at the door, when after ten more seconds it finally slid open and the cat shot outside like an arrow. Madara stood at the doorway, staring him down with an irritated look. Without greeting him he then sighed, stepping aside and letting the younger Uchiha enter.

"I'm assuming you're not going to attend the celebration." Hikaku murmured as he took off his shoes, Madara sliding the door shut behind him before walking off to the living room, sitting back down on the mat in front of the low table with a scroll spread out in front of him – which he swiftly rolled up and put away as Hikaku made his way over to the table as well, sitting down across from him. He peeked curiously at the scroll Madara had placed back into the small case filled with books and other scrolls right behind him.

"Obviously not."

Hikaku knew he shouldn't question him, but he couldn't keep the words back. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Madara placed an elbow on the table, leaning his head on the back of his hand while he gave his visitor a sharp look. "I don't remember asking for your opinion." Hikaku pressed his lips in a thin line, and while he knew speaking back probably wasn't a good idea, he had to anyway.

"What will you do next?"

"What's with that question?" Madara said as he narrowed his eyes, placing both his arms flat on the table then as he was visibly growing irritated.

Hikaku took a deep breath. "Will you leave the village?"

There was a thick silence as his clan leader merely gazed at him with cold eyes, before standing up. Hikaku mimicked his movements. "Get out." Usually, the younger Uchiha would've complied at hearing that dangerous edge to Madara's tone.

"When you leave, what will you do then?" he continued to ask through gritted teeth, growing angry at Madara's evasiveness. "Wander aimlessly in search for something new? Disappear off the face of the earth?" He stopped himself there, as what he'd wanted to say next would've crossed a line.

"If you don't want to leave on your own volition, I suppose I'll have to drag you out." Madara hissed, ignoring his questions as he walked around the table, snatching Hikaku by the arm and starting to pull him around. The hand clamped around his arm was squeezing so hard Hikaku was certain it was going to leave bruises, but he resisted, tugging back.

"Do you resent the village?"

Madara spun around with a livid glare boring holes through Hikaku's eyes.

"That's none of your business."

"Like hell it isn't," Hikaku whispered, having grown sick of his cousin bottling everything up and trying to keep him at arm's length. "Like hell it isn't! I have a right to know!" he shouted, making Madara's eyes widen in fury.

"Who do you think you are?!"

"I'm your friend – I'm your _family_!" Madara froze, his grip on Hikaku's hand slackening until he finally released it. "We're family, so please, for just this once, be upfront with me."

Madara took a step back, turning his back on him for a moment. Hikaku glowered at him with a deep frown, crossing his arms as the quiet weighed down on them. Outside a light rainfall started pouring down, barely enough to make a sound as Momo bolted back in, swinging her tail around as if annoyed.

"I'm leaving."

Hikaku's mouth dried up, arms dropping to his sides as a cold sweat broke out on his back. "When?"

Madara glanced at him from over his shoulder, his gaze empty. "Soon." Hikaku let out a deep, shaky breath, lowering his head to face the ground as he tried to deal with his worst fear having become reality– no. Not quite the worst yet.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Anywhere that's not here."

"What are you planning on doing?" Madara remained silent at that, giving Hikaku a bad feeling about where this was heading. "I'll ask again, do you resent the village?"

Madara turned around then, scrutinizing his younger cousin with a deep frown. "You fear I will attack the village?"

"Will you?"

"Would you care if I did?"

"Of course I'd care. This is my–" Hikaku stopped himself mid-sentence as a smug – yet hollow – smirk curved Madara's lips.

"Home?" he finished his sentence for him, looking like he'd been proven right about something, before he averted his gaze altogether. "It seems even you have become attached to this village."

"I don't understand," The younger Uchiha shook his head with a puzzled expression, hand briefly brushing through his hair as he glowered down at the ground. "You created Konoha, together with Hashirama. You should care about this place more than most others. Why are you so detached from it? From all of us?"

"You're right, I did create this place. It would be fitting if I ended it as well, don't you think?" Hikaku froze at that, trying to sense any hint of sarcasm in the other's tone. Madara didn't seem to be joking. "Tch, don't look so serious. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Why would you… how could you possibly…." Hikaku didn't know how to say it, but he'd never thought Madara would've actually _considered _going against the village to such an extent.

"Tell me something, Hikaku." Madara turned around now, facing him directly, the smirk having faded into a slight smile. "Would you pick the village over me as well?"

"No!" he exclaimed immediately – and yet it sounded somewhat forced to his ears. Madara noticed this too. His smile became fixed on his face like a mask. "No, I… what do you mean with '_as well'_?"

His clan leader didn't respond, but it didn't take long for Hikaku to take a guess. "What happened between you and Hashirama?"

Madara chose not to answer and ignore the question altogether. Hikaku wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear the truth anyway. "I don't know what I'll do once I leave. I don't feel like planning it out either." Indifference, coldness, apathy – it was nothing like Madara at all, and it frightened Hikaku far more than his fury, his resentment and his hatred.

"You should talk to him."

Madara gave him an irritated look. "What difference would that make?"

"You won't know until you try." Hikaku insisted – hoping that, since he couldn't get through to the man, perhaps Hashirama could, somehow. There were no other options left. Madara closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers, before he looked at Hikaku again.

"It's time for you to leave."

This time the younger Uchiha didn't protest, knowing he'd tried his best to get through to him but it hadn't been enough. Hikaku left without a sound, standing outside within a short minute, sliding the door shut behind him. As he stared at the road ahead of him, the Uchiha district quiet as it always was, he knew that winter would be the coldest one yet.

* * *

By the time the moon had risen into the sky, the rain had stopped. Everyone was certainly relieved at that, and though it was still rather cold outside, it didn't deter them from going on with their festivities. The bars and shops were full with people, though most swarmed around Hashirama whenever they got the chance, burying him under flattery and congratulations. It all rang awfully hollow to his ears. He made an effort to thank them every time, but couldn't bring himself to smile at all.

Mito accompanied him for most of the night, which he was grateful for. Talking to her had always had a way of chasing away the unpleasant thoughts in his head, even if for a short while. Still, she couldn't hide the concern in her eyes, and he was too irritated to pretend he wasn't.

Despite the cold there were still plenty of people outside, so his idea of avoiding most others went out the window as he was constantly dragged into their conversations until Mito got tired of seeing him like that and gently ushered him into a bar for them to sit down.

He wondered what his brother was doing when he spotted a completely wasted Sasuke Sarutobi looking like he was about to puke his guts out, sitting at the bar with several empty cups in front of him. While everyone already inside greeted the pair loudly and Mito tried her best to be as polite as she could, Hashirama sat down right next to Sasuke, snatching the half-empty bottle next to him off the counter and taking a large sip. The alcohol burned down his throat and he sighed, Sasuke dazedly turning his head to gawk at him.

Hashirama stared back with a wry smirk."You look terrible."

Sasuke snickered. "Right back at ya." The new Hokage couldn't argue with that, instead deciding to finish whatever had been left inside of the bottle. The bartender eyed them with a mixture of concern and pity as Mito sat down next to Hashirama as well, frowning slightly.

"Why don't you just go look for him?" she asked in a hushed tone while looking around the cozy café, though the warmth of the building was entirely lost on Hashirama. It could've been freezing and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.

"As if I haven't tried _that _before." Hashirama mumbled, hunched over the bar counter. In spite of all his constant searches the past few days, Madara had managed to stay a step ahead and had completely avoided him. It hadn't really helped with Hashirama's mood.

The conversation ceased before Mito could respond, more shinobi deciding to approach the Hokage with smiles and friendly looks, asking him how he was feeling and how he felt about being their new, official leader. Hashirama didn't know what else he could say other than alternating between "great" and "just fine".

"You look kind of down, lord Hokage," one of them – an Akimichi with bright red hair that could rival the Uzumaki's – noted, though his tone was still casual.

"More sake!"

"Che, I doubt that'll do anything but give him a headache later."

"And the vomiting. Don't forget that part."

"Did that Uchiha pull something again?"

The atmosphere shifted palpably, Hashirama's shoulders tensing and his back straightening as his tolerance was nearing its end. Even Sasuke, who was so drunk he could barely see straight, sat upright and eyed Hashirama anxiously. The offending party of three noticed this as well, though they mistook it as irritation directed at aforementioned Uchiha instead of them.

"I bet he did. Typical, trying to ruin everything, right?" the bald one among the three amended nervously, trying to lighten the air and failing miserably. Mito glanced from the trio to Hashirama, shooting the ignorant shinobi a warning glance though they didn't seem to notice.

"Why the Uchiha let that maniac still lead them is beyond me."

"They must be just as crazy as he is–"

"Now, gentlemen, I really do suggest you watch your tone." Mito cut in smoothly before they made matters even worse; Hashirama looked agitated enough without them pouring salt on the wounds.

"Something wrong, lady Mito?" They seemed confused at her interruption. "We're just saying it how it is. Everyone here is thinking it, right?"

Hashirama stood up so abruptly that the three of them nearly tripped over themselves while trying to take a step back. Mito sighed, realizing it was too late to cool everything down. Hashirama turned to look at the three that had been trash talking earlier, the look in his eyes harsh – chilling the room faster than the winter ever could have.

"Is that really what the village thinks of its founder?" he questioned, the nonchalant manner in which he'd phrased it still giving way to the icy undertones of his voice.

"W-well, _you _actually did build most of this place–"

"Which would've never happened had Madara not agreed to the peace treaty." Hashirama cut in, furrowing his brows and looking around the room to the faces of all the others present. Oh, there were a _lot _of things that he wanted to say at that moment – most of them not very pretty either – but he swallowed it all back in spite of himself. Mito opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself when she saw the look on his face, which he appreciated. He really wanted to be alone.

"I need some air." he grumbled, swiftly taking his leave out the room into the bitter winter night – for once ignoring the villagers, for once turning away from Konoha, for once just _angry _and frustrated with everything and everyone.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to find Madara, but as he'd suspected, the man didn't want to show himself. After what felt like hours of walking, he eventually found himself staring out over the village from the cliff right above it – that same place where they'd finally found what they'd name it.

The cold wind blew his hair back, stinging in his ears as his legs dangled over the edge. The many lights scattered across Konoha made it a magnificent sight, like small flames from candles dimly illuminating the shadows. Hashirama wished he could've shared the view with Madara.

For a second, his heart skipped a beat when he heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned around he was disappointed with seeing the speck of white unmistakably from his brother. Tobirama raised his eyebrows at noticing his reaction, though he didn't seem surprised as he approached him.

"So he didn't show up, huh." He sat down next to his older brother, observing the view of Konoha as well. "I heard you caused a scene over him."

"They were pushing it." Hashirama said as he glanced at him, meeting Tobirama's wry smirk with a dissatisfied scowl.

"Stop pouting about it already. There's nothing you can do about it if he doesn't even want to show his face."

"I'm not pouting."

Tobirama didn't respond to that, leaning back on his hands as he stared at the sky which was mostly covered by the clouds, the dim light of the crescent moon barely shining through at all. "Maybe it's best if you just forget about him."

"I wouldn't even if I could." Hashirama replied brusquely, clearly not interested at all in Tobirama's opinion on the situation.

"Then, have you thought about what I suggested earlier?" the younger Senju questioned, referring to the Edo Tensei. Hashirama nodded slowly. "Well?"

"I don't think it's a good idea. It could just agitate him even more."

Tobirama narrowed his eyes slightly, not understanding why Hashirama was making everything so difficult for himself. "Why do you care so much about him, anyway?"

"Heh," Hashirama nearly laughed at that, his eyes softening as he stared straight down, as if reminiscing. "Maybe you'll understand once you fall in love."

Tobirama tried his best not to roll his eyes at that, folding his arms. "If I do I doubt it'll be with someone this troublesome."

Their talk ended there, both satisfied with the silence and simply staring down at their village. No doubt the villagers were wondering what had happened to the Hokage, though neither of them really cared about that for the moment.

Seeing that Hashirama wasn't taking what he had to say very seriously really irked Tobirama, but he knew he wouldn't get through that thick skull of his no matter what he said. Well, even if Hashirama didn't seem to want to do it, he hadn't expressly forbidden Tobirama from attempting it anyway, and really, the younger Senju knew it was probably the best shot they had in changing Madara's mind or at least steering him away from the path of destruction he'd set himself on.

He just hoped Madara himself hadn't changed his mind about it, because really, he wasn't very happy with the possible prospect of having to break into the Uchiha's house to look for Izuna's old belongings and hope to find a sliver of his DNA. Chances were if he got caught, he'd be a dead man.

* * *

While the village had been out celebrating that night, Madara himself had stayed away from all the festivities the best he could – and more importantly, avoiding Hashirama the best he could. The last thing he needed was for that man to come along and throw all his thoughts into disarray again just when he thought he'd finally figured out where he was heading.

The morning after the that night, however, proved to be rather interesting. Not in a pleasant way, but as Madara carefully made his way through the village while being mindful of running into Hashirama, he noticed the stares he received from people were different. They seemed more hesitant, and more thoughtful, instead of the regular suspicious looks he always got.

He wondered what had prompted this sudden change, and was especially surprised when a particularly reluctant trio of shinobi actually tried to have a civil conversation with him. He remained mostly apathetic, though the curiosity about this sudden change had dimmed his otherwise sharp tones to a slightly softer demeanor.

They didn't really seem genuinely interested as they asked him mundane questions about what he was doing while addressing him formally and with respect – albeit grudgingly. Madara got the strange sense they were doing it out of some sort of guilt trip. Had Hashirama pulled something off during his big day? Probably; it certainly seemed like something he'd do, intentionally or not.

The three suddenly tensed a little, looking at someone behind Madara. The Uchiha leader glanced casually over his shoulder, feeling a slight bit of relief that then swiftly turned into annoyance when spotting not the older Senju, but the younger brother walking towards him instead. The trio excused themselves, taking their leave as Tobirama approached.

"You're really good at playing hide and seek, you know that?"

Madara narrowed his eyes at the derisive sneer as he turned towards the white haired man with a firm glare. "You're really good at being a general thorn in my side." he snapped back. "What do you want?"

"A few locks of hair would help."

Madara was so perplexed at that completely random statement that he barely knew how to respond. "_What_?"

Tobirama smirked, amused at his confusion. "Not yours." he clarified, lowering his voice. "Izuna's." Madara's eyes widened slightly in understanding, but when Tobirama didn't really receive a reply, he grew impatient. "Having second thoughts?"

"Do you know it will even work?" the Uchiha questioned, glancing around to make sure no nosy villager was attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation. The street seemed calm and quiet enough for them to continue it there, and so they remained.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't absolutely sure." Tobirama responded matter-of-factly, his conceited attitude vexing Madara to no ends.

"Tch, fine then." he decided, figuring it would be a nice way to close this chapter of his life by being able to say goodbye to Izuna before he left permanently. He'd left his room completely untouched as well, so finding DNA required for the summoning wouldn't be much of a problem. He was still partially wondering whether it was the _right _thing to do, though he brushed that off. He'd already crossed a border too far a long time ago to care about what was right and wrong anymore.

"Tonight,"

This surprised him. "Tonight?" he repeated with a frown, wondering why Tobirama was making such haste.

"Hashirama knows about the technique," Tobirama admitted somewhat hesitantly. "It's best if it happens before he starts suspecting anything."

"I'm guessing he didn't like the sound of it."

"Obviously not."

Madara took a moment to make sure his resolve was steadfast, and then nodded. "Fine. Tonight." Tobirama seemed to want to say something more when he abruptly closed his mouth and stared at something over Madara's shoulder.

"Tobirama, I'd like to speak to Madara for a moment if you wouldn't mind."

Madara glared at the newcomer. "Mito," He spat the name as if it left a horrible taste on his tongue, and while he hadn't intended to react that heavily, the scene he'd witnessed a week ago was still burned vividly into his memory and he couldn't help but resent her for that – for everything she symbolized in his mind.

Tobirama merely sighed and walked off, shooting an almost pitying glance in Mito's direction as if he felt sorry for her.

She certainly seemed a little startled at Madara's sudden hostility, though she didn't let it throw her off. "I don't know _what _you talked yourself into believing this time, but you should probably stop."

Madara briefly considered just bashing her head against the wall next to him, but instead settled for turning around and quickly walking away, the woman on his heels. "Why are you always so damned nosy?" he snarled through his teeth, Mito having to lift the skirt of her kimono to keep up with him.

"You're making him, and yourself, completely miserable."

"I still don't see how that involves _you_."

Mito pursed her lips, letting a brief breath hiss through as she stared at him and he stared ahead. "You're not actually going to leave, are you?" she asked instead, as she'd hoped that Hashirama had just overreacted when he'd initially told her. Yet seeing Madara in this kind of mood–

"What if I am?"

She nearly tripped over herself, making Madara come to a halt as they'd neared the end of the street. He gazed down at her with a taunting look as if to dare her to try and convince him otherwise. She wasn't that foolish.

"He really loves you."

Madara's entire body froze, and Mito thought, as she watched him breathe in and out with a look so livid she wouldn't have been surprised had she caught on fire just by his glare alone, that he really loved Hashirama as well for him to react in such a manner.

"I don't want to hear that from _you_!" he yelled at her in a blaze of rage, his skin having drained of all color and his fists shaking as he promptly turned his back on the petrified woman, stalking off before he actually did hurt her.

Instead of being frightened at the sudden outburst, Mito could only feel sad for him, because she knew he really did love Hashirama – and for all his cool demeanor he put up as a front to hide it, he was hurting, even more than Hashirama was.

* * *

**Bwahahaha! Everything is so getting so depressing. I'm loving it AND hating it at the same time xD**

**Please forgive any blatant grammar errors for now, it's really late and I'll do a more thorough editing tomorrow morning. For now, sleep first. Just _really _wanted to get this out today.**

**I'm loving the reviews guys, I hope you're happy with this next one as well as we're getting closer and closer to the end!**

**See ya soon!**


	33. Please Be Happy

**Please Be Happy**

The village was in unrest.

Hashirama walked around in his garden which seemed to have withered away during autumn, the green all but asleep now that winter had finally arrived. There were no petals left on the wisteria tree.

His little outburst in the café – if you could even call it that – had thrown everyone off. Hashirama, known for his patience, his kindness, his charisma, had lost his cool. People were speculating, starting to lay the blame on Madara again; it seemed like a maddening cycle that would never end. To make matters worse, apparently the Uchiha leader hadn't made it himself any easier either, having yelled at Mito in the middle of the street.

Hashirama had asked Mito about it later that afternoon, but she'd assured him that she'd been the one to set him off by prying into his business again. She'd meant to apologize to him but he'd disappeared after that.

Of course her explanation went ignored among most of the villagers. Hashirama was beginning to wonder if there would ever be an end to this finger pointing.

But moreover, he wanted to see Madara again.

Yet, the man didn't seem to have any intentions of showing himself. Was he truly that determined to leave the village? Perhaps he thought his resolve would waver if he saw Hashirama again, or perhaps he just really couldn't stand to be around him now that he'd been made Hokage. Either way, as long as Madara refused to talk to him, Hashirama couldn't find out.

He sighed, slowly walking over to the shrunken wisteria tree, sliding his fingers over its bare branches as flashes of a sunny afternoon filled with pink petals came to mind. A shoulder pressed against his own, red eyes shimmering dully under the shadow of the sweet scented flowers, a painting – grieving lover – hanging against the wall of a lonely hallway. Had it truly never been meant to be? Had they been doomed from the start?

Suddenly feeling rather restless, he decided to get outside, or perhaps find Tobirama; he _really _needed someone to spar with even if time approached midnight. On his way out, inside the compound, whispers followed him everywhere though no one spoke up to him directly. Usually he would've stopped to ask what the gossiping was about, but he really wasn't in the mood to care so he let it slide for once.

A hollow feeling settled in his chest as he remembered all the times he'd run into Tōka whenever he left his garden. He'd always stop to chat with her, and she'd always offer him her advice on whatever it was he was bothered with or just take his mind off things. Help with his stress. But she was gone, so he had to bottle it up and move on.

Becoming Hokage really hadn't changed much – aside from it complicating his relationship with Madara, in a very, _very _bad way. Hashirama would go as far to say he loathed the mess it had saddled him up with, wishing he could tell someone else to go sit in a stuffy office all day long, but he couldn't. The whole village relied on him, so how could he say no when they all wanted him? Once again it fell on his shoulders.

How he wished he could just be irresponsible for once.

Outside wasn't much different from the inside of the compound. There were still whispers, there were still concerned looks and curious glances thrown his way. Hashirama shook it off. He didn't respond to any greetings, he didn't smile back to anyone, he didn't utter a word as he trudged through the village with a scowl, looking for a vent.

What he found instead was something entirely different. A few Uchiha clansmen, hanging around in an inconspicuous alleyway – he would've passed them and ignored them had he not picked up on their words first.

"…until he finally snaps?"

Hashirama, looking nonchalant to anyone else passing by, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, right next to the entrance of the alley, his gaze fixed to the ground as he focused intently on the conversation.

"Who knows. It won't be very long, though."

"Think he'll go on a rampage when he finally loses it?"

"Hey, hey. Don't joke about things like that. If he decided to take it out on the village we'd be in serious trouble."

Hashirama gritted his teeth. _'Not even his own clansmen… I knew it was bad but to think it had already deteriorated this far… is there no one that believes in him anymore?'_

"Who do you think will take over?"

"Has to be Hikaku. He's the strongest, after Madara."

"How do we know we won't be dealing with the same shit, then? They're pretty close."

"Oh come on, Hikaku is far more reasonable than that mad dog–"

Hashirama decided to leave, before he took his pent up anxiety out on them, abruptly pushing away from the wall and walking through the street with a fiercer stride than before, making heads turn to look in his direction as frustration oozed from his expression. H didn't even know what he could do anymore in this situation, but he couldn't just stand around and wait for everything to fall apart either. Even if his efforts all amounted into nothing in the end, he had to do something.

Hashirama had to find Madara. He had to talk to him, _they _had to talk. He had to pour his heart out and make him understand – and if the man, even then, was still set on leaving, then at least he knew he'd understood it all. It would hurt more, knowing Madara _had _understood it but then had still chosen to reject him, his hopes and dreams, Konoha; but at least he would understand.

The problem was trying to put it into words. Hashirama had never been entirely open about his feelings before. Of course he'd told Madara several times that he loved him, but that statement alone had never conveyed _how much _he loved him, _why _he loved him, and how he would keep on loving him even if Madara insisted on tearing them apart without mercy, shredding Hashirama piece by piece and breaking him completely. Even then, _even _then, he couldn't force Madara out of his heart nor his thoughts.

Now, to convey that into words. Now, to give those thoughts a voice – before they died in the back of his throat and they would be left with nothing but shattered memories.

* * *

It had been a long time since he'd stepped foot into Izuna's bedroom. It had grown dusty, but everything had been left untouched. It didn't hurt as much as he'd expected it to. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, as if something otherwise excruciating had been dulled by sedatives, desensitized and reduced to nothing more than a minor nuisance.

A comb lay on the desk near the window, strands of familiar hair tangled through the teeth of it. Madara walked over to it, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he moved; the only sound in the house other than Momo making some noises as she attempted to catch a fly in the living room. His pale fingers brushed over the blue comb for a moment, before he decidedly picked it up. He turned to give one last look through the room.

Izuna, asking him to pick some clothes out for him with an irritated frown. Izuna, sleeping on his futon as if he'd just collapsed there on the spot, snoring gently. Izuna, standing near the window and feeling a soft summer breeze on his face with the faintest of smiles on his face.

The dull ache turned into a scorching pain, Madara's chest tightening as he turned away from his memories with gritted teeth, walking out of the bedroom with swift steps, slamming the door shut behind him. Momo stared up at him with wide eyes from under the table she was hiding under, but he ignored her.

It still throbbed, like a quickly growing tumor always reminding him of what he'd lost, buried firmly inside and hurting quietly, yet ever-present. He'd always suppressed it, but it had grown too big for him to ignore. Hate.

Momo chewed on the fly she'd caught, after which she quickly grew bored again, jumping on top of the table where she sat down, eyeing Madara curiously as he walked across the room towards the front door. Outside was chilly; an unfriendly cold blowing through the village with clouds tightly packed together, not letting a single ray of light from the night sky shine through. The cat followed him, slipping through the door before he slid it shut behind him.

He paid no attention to her as he continued on his way – the location, he knew, would be that clearing in the woods just outside of Konoha where he'd aided Tobirama with the technique.

And where he and Hashirama had shared their first kiss.

He shuddered, whether from the cold or the memories he didn't know, Momo trailing next to him as if she knew where he was going. Though, it didn't take long for her to see something interesting moving around in a few bushes they passed, luring her away and leaving her owner to walk his path alone.

'_Tch, seems like not even the cat likes me enough to stay.' _he thought in bitter humor, mocking himself. _'Should've convinced Izuna to get a dog. At least the stupid mutts are loyal.'_

Sneaking out of the village proved almost laughably easy. The guards were incredibly lax, and why not? What did they have to fear? No common criminal would ever attempt to attack Konoha, and after having destroyed Suna's forces, the other Hidden Villages would think twice before starting a fight.

The forest itself was quiet, wind rustling the many leaves above as a crow cawed when he passed it by. It was pitch dark, making it almost impossible to tell whether the shadows moved or not. Nonetheless his Sharingan picked up on a chakra signature in the distance approaching him quietly. Madara stopped and stared at the figure who seemed far too relaxed for his taste.

"You look grumpy." Tobirama halted as well several feet in front of him, folding his arms as the Uchiha leader took a moment to glare at him before he started walking again. Tobirama took that as a cue and went on ahead, towards where the technique would take place. "What will you do after this?"

"People have been asking me too many questions lately." Madara replied curtly, clearly conveying he had no interest in sharing his plans with Tobirama.

"A little small talk won't kill you." the Senju replied to this with a small frown, glancing at him from over his shoulder. "Besides, I'd like to know what kind of threat you'd form to the village."

Madara's shoulders tensed slightly, his eyes narrowing as he glowered at Tobirama's back. "Rather blunt, aren't we?"

"We both know where this is heading." the other replied coolly, unperturbed by the threatening undertones in Madara's voice. "The only question left to answer is whether you'll attack Konoha or not – which, I suppose, depends mostly on Izuna. I know nothing I say now will make a difference, but you should know that if you do become a threat, you will meet your end, one way or another."

Tobirama didn't receive a response. When he looked back at the man trailing behind him, he couldn't read his face since most of it had been hidden by the darkness, but he doubted it was a very happy expression either way.

Minutes passed, though neither were keeping a track on time. They had until sunrise; that was more than enough. Eventually Madara spotted the form of a man lying against a tree ahead, tied up and seemingly unconscious.

"In the end I'm still surprised you had the guts to go through with this." he remarked nonchalantly as they drew closer to the unlucky bastard that would serve as the living sacrifice required for the technique. He seemed to be knocked out cold, and was probably a Suna shinobi unfortunate enough to have been caught by the Senju.

Tobirama had ignored Madara – reminding the Uchiha leader why he loathed the white haired man in the first place – as he stood in front of the prisoner for a moment, before grabbing him by the ropes tied around him and throwing him down in the middle of the clearing, then turning to Madara expectantly.

Madara pulled out the little bag containing the comb with the long strands of his brother's hair, tossing it over to Tobirama who'd already spread out a scroll down on the ground needed to perform the technique.

The young Senju caught it, glancing at Madara as he pulled out the comb from the bag, careful not to let the wind blow any of the hairs away, putting them down on the opened scroll.

"Well, here goes nothing."

As he activated the scroll, his observer had his gaze fixed on the man who'd been starting to wake up just at the wrong moment. Before the dazed man could even demand to know what was going on, he started screaming. Dust and ashes rose from the ground around him, creeping up on his body and slowly encasing him – from what Madara could tell, it seemed to be a rather painful process. The mild sense of revulsion already present in him started growing as the man's shouting turned into choked groans, eventually the remains overtaking him entirely.

He'd almost started wondering whether it all was worth it, until he finally saw the resemblance – familiar shapes forming into the resurrection of a memory he'd thought forever lost to him. He shouldn't have been surprised, really; Madara himself had worked on the technique after all so of course it would have succeeded.

Still, as he watched it all take form, he could not help but remember the days he'd spent in insurmountable grief, lost to the world and barely hanging on, guilt eating him up from the inside out. The dust settled on the sacrifice, and there was nothing left of the man that had previously been sitting there on his knees. There was only something that looked like a mere imitation of his brother – cracks marring his grey skin, leaning over limply without life as if a puppet.

Part of Madara wanted to turn away in disgust, yet his eyes were fixed on what had to be Izuna, even with the imperfections. It was as if it had been only yesterday that his brother had pleaded him to let him go out on another mission. Everything, aside from the skin, was identical.

It, or rather, _he_, then finally stirred into awakening.

Tobirama had taken a cautious distance, but overall, seemed pleased that his technique had worked.

Izuna – yes, it was definitely Izuna – slowly stood up from the ground, brows furrowed ever so slightly as he turned his head in Madara's direction for a moment, familiar blindfold still present.

"Izuna," It was barely above a whisper and he didn't realize the name had slipped through his lips until his brother, _his little brother_, seemed to freeze for a moment.

"Madara?"

His body moved forward before he could even control it, slowly drawing closer to Izuna – until he remembered they weren't exactly alone. He shot a glare towards Tobirama. "A little privacy, Senju." he snapped impatiently, to which the man defensively raised his hands.

"Could've asked me nicely."

Izuna's head immediately turned to Tobirama who was standing a few feet behind him. "Tobirama Senju?" He sounded utterly confused, for which neither of them blamed him for. "What's going on here? Why am I… alive? "

"I'll let your _brother_ explain that for you." Tobirama sneered, scowling back at Madara as he started walking back from where they'd came from. "I'll just be up ahead, waiting, I suppose. Tell me when you're finished." With that, he left.

They were alone, and they were silent. Madara didn't know where to start; his eyes were too busy taking in everything in front of him. Izuna seemed unsure – hesitant, almost, before he slowly reached out his hand, brushing the fingertips over the sleeves of his brother's sweater. Madara's fixated gaze softened, his heart being torn apart by warmth as he captured that pale hand. It was warm, rough, with slender fingers much like his own. It was Izuna. Izuna's hand intertwined with his, and Izuna's arms that threw themselves around him, and Izuna's chest steadily breathing against his own, and Izuna's hair tickling his cheek–

"I'm sorry," Izuna's voice, whispering in his ear. "I'm so sorry, I should've listened to you, I shouldn't have gone on the mission."

Madara couldn't speak, his hands shaking lightly as they clung to Izuna's clothes, in a strange state of shock. After all that mourning, Izuna had been finally returned to him, however temporary it was. It felt like a dream. Only when his brother pulled back from the embrace slightly did it wake him from his trance.

"How did you…." He didn't finish his sentence but it was obvious what he meant. Madara took a deep breath, closing his eyes to sort out the chaos of thoughts in his head.

"A technique me and that Senju brat created: Edo Tensei." He wavered for a moment, pausing as Izuna seemed rather flustered at what he'd just told him.

"That's… that's amazing! That you could actually invent something like that is… but it's not permanent, is it?"

"No, it's not." Madara admitted quietly, his own words tearing through his eardrums like claws, nearly making him cringe. Izuna smiled somberly.

"I figured. Your voice wouldn't have sounded so strained otherwise." When Madara didn't respond, his younger brother put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "What is it?"

"I… I wanted to talk to you one last time, before I left."

"Left?" Madara sighed, wishing he could forget about everything else going on in his life and just focus solely on his brother, his hands clamped around Izuna's upper arms as if afraid he'd slip out of his grasp at any second. "Do you mean leave Konoha?" Izuna sounded baffled. "Brother, what happened while I was gone?"

"Too much." Madara rested his forehead on Izuna's shoulder, mental exhaustion starting to overtake him. "Far too much." The younger man was still for a moment, before he took Madara's hands in his own.

"Come sit," he said with a tender smile, pulling his older brother down on the grass with him. "Let's talk."

The words spilled from his mouth without breaks, though he was selective in what he told first. He started with the clan – their distrust, their discontent, their eventual betrayal – and eventually, he had to talk about the Senju, and by extension, Hashirama. Izuna listened quietly the whole time through, but when Madara seemed to be stuck on the topic of Hashirama, his younger brother noticed he'd probably need some encouragement.

"How is it between you two? Are you still friends?" Izuna inquired, brushing his fingers through the grass. Madara chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I don't know _what_ we are anymore." They were friends, they were rivals, they were close yet distant, and they were about to get torn apart. At best they were lovers, at worst enemies – it was such a wide range of feelings that he could hardly pick a single word to describe them. "I did something very foolish, Izuna."

"What did you do?"

"I let him get close to me." Madara rubbed his forehead with closed eyes, frustrated with himself. "I let my guard down, and made everything far more complicated than it needed to be."

"But if you got closer together, isn't that a good thing?" Izuna questioned with a slight frown, fingers then starting to pluck the grass. His brother smiled bitterly, not that he could see, but he could almost hear it from his tone when he replied.

"If we'd… if_ I'd_ just stayed away from him, everything now would've been so simple. I could've left without a second thought; I probably would've drowned in my hatred and loathed Konoha forever. But he gave me good memories about this place and kept me anchored down all that time, no matter how much I wanted to drift away."

He'd known happiness in the village – no matter how short it had been, those memories were not something he could numb himself to. Even if all else would end badly, at least there had been those times where he'd been happy. He hadn't been sure what he'd do after taking his leave, but the thought of attacking the village didn't seem very compelling. Nothing seemed very compelling to him anymore.

"Brother, do you… I mean, were you two… um…." Izuna seemed uncomfortable asking, but Madara supposed he hadn't been very subtle in his tone when he'd been talking about Hashirama.

"Yes, we were." he answered quietly, eyeing Izuna's reaction carefully. He seemed slightly startled, his eyebrows raised with his mouth half-open as if he were about to say something before he slowly closed it again. Wind blew and seconds passed.

"Do you love him?" Izuna asked so softly that his brother had almost missed it. Madara initially scowled, about to deny that in full until something inside his head stopped him, forcing him to think instead of acting on his impulses.

He'd never even considered what that word had meant – he'd always assumed it was just something between only him and Izuna; a brotherly love. Madara had always thought things like romance were a waste of time and an unnecessary luxury, not meant for someone like him whose life was always knee-deep in the middle of war.

Then Hashirama had come along, and had given him that glowing feeling in his chest, those otherwise so rational thoughts of his turning into madness, and it had completely thrown him for a loop, had made him act like a complete idiot. Somewhere down the line Madara had started caring, wanting, needing – so completely unlike him, so entirely out of his comfort zone, so utterly foreign. All those feelings couldn't be described with any other word.

"I suppose I do." He didn't look for Izuna's reaction, gaze aimed at the ground in front of him, feeling strangely hollow even when he'd come to terms with it. He'd figured it out too late, far too late. "What do I do, Izuna? What am I _supposed _to do? How do I fix this mess?"

Madara suddenly felt two hands over his arms, creeping up to grab his shoulders. He raised his head to stare at his younger brother who was sitting on his knees in front of him, a scowl on his face.

"Do what's best for you."

He was slightly puzzled by Izuna's words. "What about the Uchiha? What do I do about the clan?"

"Forget them." Izuna insisted in a firm voice, rendering his brother speechless. "You gave them everything, and in turn they spat in your face. Forget them. They don't deserve you. Do what's best for you – whatever makes you happy will make me happy too."

"But you gave everything too, to protect them, to make sure_ I_ could keep on protecting them–"

"And they turned their backs on you." Izuna responded brusquely, his indignation palpable in his voice. "After all that effort you put in trying to keep them safe, to do what was best for them, they betrayed you, they turned their backs on _us_! Forget about them, brother. They're not worth it anymore."

Madara laughed, though it was humorless, as Izuna slowly released his shoulders again. "I don't know what's best for me, Izuna, I never have. I just want to leave this place and get as far away from it as possible. It's starting to suffocate me."

His brother nodded."Then you leave. It's that simple. You do whatever you want to do." Izuna asserted, Madara starting to wonder how he'd managed to survive without his little brother for what seemed like years when it had only been a couple of months.

Sunrise was drawing closer, the sky having started to lighten, signaling the end of their conversation. As much as they would've liked, they couldn't stay like this forever. Even when their talk diverted towards lighter topics – Izuna inquiring about his cat and how Hikaku was doing – neither of them forgot that they had to part soon.

When Tobirama approached them, stepping through a few bushes with a deep frown on his face, they knew it was time.

The two brothers both stood up – and they stayed silent, Madara taking Izuna into his arms for a last time, pressing his face against his brother's neck while the younger sibling's fingers dug into his back, though he didn't mind. It was painful, dreadful, agonizing, losing him all over again as Tobirama formed the seals for Edo Tensei's release.

Madara felt Izuna starting to tremble. "I wish I could cry." the younger brother whispered shakily, making something inside Madara twist and break as he felt a warm wetness slide over his cheeks.

"You already are," he murmured back, tears soaking into the fabric of Izuna's clothes – a strange light engulfing him. Madara squeezed his eyes shut.

"Madara, I want you to be happy." He couldn't speak. "_Please be happy_."

Izuna slipped through his fingers like smoke.

* * *

**Do you hate me yet.**

**I need to stop all this late-night updating. It's starting to become a bad habit. For some reason my motivation to write comes to me at the worst possible moments – and usually when I really, really, REALLY need sleep.**

**I hope you liked it.**

**I hope at least you don't want to kill me for all the depression I've been throwing on you guys.**

**See ya next time!**


	34. Late Love

**Late Love**

Mito was up early that morning, careful not to awaken Chizuru as she moved around the house, deciding to go out after breakfast and take a walk. The past days had been a little unnerving to her – what with Hashirama seeming to be under such a strain and entirely unhappy while Madara seemed intent on not showing his face again, so she couldn't relax.

The streets were tranquil, barely anyone else seeming to be up aside from her. She tried to put all her worries aside for the moment to enjoy her walk, but it seemed that was not what fate had planned for her as she noticed someone on the other end of the street walking towards the center of the village – distinctly white, spiky hair.

He paused, turning his head to look at her as he seemed to have noticed her as well, and she smiled at him, waving as she made her way over. Tobirama seemed a little tired, moreso than usual.

"Good morning," Mito greeted him cheerfully, and though she hadn't expected him to return the joyful mood in the first place, he seemed a little bothered with something.

"Morning." he mumbled, brushing his hand through his hair. She gave him an inquisitive look, making him sigh. "Rough night."

"Oh? What were you doing?" Mito asked, as the two started to walk together. She figured he was probably headed home to get some rest.

"I was…." Tobirama seemed reluctant to talk about it, frowning slightly. "I was working on a jutsu."

"In the middle of the night?" Tobirama didn't respond and Mito wondered if she'd questioned him too much. She started feeling a little awkward at his blatant ignoring of her question, and tried to switch the subject. "Have you seen Madara lately?"

Apparently that had been the wrong topic to bring up as Tobirama nearly cringed at the name. Well, at least now she knew he'd _definitely _seen the Uchiha leader around.

"Yes, he… wanted to be left alone." That did nothing to ease Mito's concerns. Tobirama noticed her worried look and sighed. "There's nothing you can do about it. It's pointless to worry."

"But still, if… if something goes wrong–"

"Hashirama will deal with it." Tobirama cut in with a scowl, glaring at the road in front of him. "And if he doesn't, I will."

"You say that as if something really _will _go wrong." Mito noted at his resolute tone, to which he glanced at her once but otherwise avoided eye-contact. She couldn't help but get suspicious.

"Don't look at me like that," Tobirama muttered grouchily. "It's not like I killed his puppy! He should've been grateful instead of just stomping off like that. Bastard."

"What…?" Mito was utterly confused at his musings, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. He looked at her and shook his head.

"I'll tell you later, just… just not right now."

She supposed she could accept that – she was a patient person, after all, but there was still something bugging her. "Do you know where Madara went?" she asked though she suspected he didn't, and she was right; Tobirama shook his head again.

She couldn't help but be completely distracted by this issue the rest of the day, asking around for Madara every now and then, hoping to get a hint as to where the man had went.

At the end of the day, when night had fallen and she walked back to her apartment, she returned home with the knowledge that none of the villagers had seen him – but that wasn't what had shocked her.

His own clansmen hadn't seen him either.

* * *

A faint sound in the silence of the night stirred him from his dreams. The shadow standing near his window was one he'd seen many, many times before, and yet its appearance surprised him. Hashirama slowly sat upright, a quiet dread sending a chill down his back as those red eyes glinted dully in the palest ray of moonlight. They were soft – not sharp like blades or fiery like flames as they'd always been before. Brittle like frozen glass.

"Madara?" he whispered, his voice low even though they were the only ones there. As if it were a command, the silent visitor moved at hearing his name, approaching the still sleep-dazed man with soundless footsteps, kneeling down next to him with swift grace. Hashirama's eyes were wide, trying to capture every bit of light escaping through the cracks of his curtains and falling on Madara's face.

A pale hand gently pushed against his chest, getting him to lie back down on his futon. Madara leaned over him, fingers gently tracing an invisible line over Hashirama's cheek, his lips, his chin, his neck, to his hair spread over the pillow, as if he were lamenting a broken treasure. Hashirama grasped that hand with his own, pulling it back to his chest.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice barely audible, words spoken with reluctance. Madara's fingertips pressed down on his warm skin, searching for his heartbeat as his eyes stared down into Hashirama's with the answer lying in them clear as day, even if Hashirama didn't want to see it. Madara knew he didn't want to see it, so he shattered any possibility for delusions, denial and escape.

"I came to say goodbye."

The grip Hashirama had on his hand tightened painfully, but he didn't flinch. Black eyes smoldered as they gazed into the unwavering red.

"I won't let you."

"You will." Madara whispered back as if everything had already been determined, leaning down and tasting his lips with a sensual kiss that killed whatever words had been left on Hashirama's tongue. Pale hands traveled down over Hashirama's neck to his torso, caressing the tanned skin which shivered lightly at his touch.

Still, it felt wrong, _wrong_, terrifyingly wrong, and Hashirama pushed him away, lungs sucking in a sharp breath. Madara was still right on top of him, legs straddling his hips and staring down expectantly, as if it were only a matter of time until Hashirama gave in. The Senju disagreed.

"You can't leave."

Fingers clamped down on his neck, nails digging themselves in his flesh as he gasped for breath, Madara's glare flaring to life. "That's not for you to decide." The angry hiss tore through his ears, yet Hashirama refused to give in, grabbing Madara's wrist and making him slacken the grip on his throat.

"Stay. Stay, and we'll fix this." he barely choked out.

"You know it's not that easy." Madara replied with a bitter smile. "It's never that easy with me, is it?" Words he'd spoken long ago came crashing back down on Hashirama, filling him with a hundred different shades of regret and frustration. He sat up, gripping his friend by his upper arms in a firm hold

"There's always a way out, if you just stay we can–"

"We can't."

"We _can_!"

Madara narrowed his eyes, fingers still lightly curled around Hashirama's neck as he glowered down at him. "I'm doing this for me. For once, I'm putting myself first. You can't deny me that."

Hashirama was utterly perplexed, in his mind unable to understand – ultimately, not being able to grasp what truly went on in Madara's mind. It felt like they'd been torn apart by a stone wall, a sudden divide putting in the distance of worlds between them. How could leaving possibly make him happier?

Madara saw the confusion painted in the other's eyes, a somber smile gracing his lips as if he'd expected things to go this way. "Konoha never belonged to me. It was always yours. I've no reason to stay."

"How could you say that?" An ache in his chest set Hashirama's nerves ablaze, Madara averting his gaze from the pained expression; from those all too hurt eyes. Hashirama's hand cupped his cheek, turning his head to force the man to look at him. "I love you."

"So I should stay for you?" Madara shoved his hand away with a scathing laugh. "So I should stay, miserable as I am, just for you?"

Hashirama's words died in the back of his throat, his hand dropping down as he couldn't find the heart to argue any further. No, he couldn't stay, he couldn't stay broken as he was, betrayed as he was – no matter how much Hashirama loved him, it would never be enough to make him stay.

But how could he know that with a hundred percent certainty if he hadn't even tried?

"Can you just… hear me out at least? Please?" Hashirama asked softly, and though his visitor narrowed his eyes, he stayed silent, which seemed to mean he agreed to listen. Hashirama really didn't know whether anything he said would have any impact on the man at all, but even if it didn't, he had to get it off of his chest.

Yet putting it into words was extremely difficult. How could he describe it, how could he express it, and would it even reach? Perhaps he was just making it harder than it needed to be; perhaps he should just let the words flow. Hashirama had never had any difficulty expressing himself, or his feelings, until he'd tried conveying it all to Madara. He didn't like the feeling of words strangling him; incoherent sentences from jumbled thoughts overwhelming his ability to speak. This time had to be different.

"You asked me once before, what I would do if you turned on Konoha." Hashirama remembered everything from that rainy day vividly; he could've never forgotten that look in Madara's eyes back then that had made his heart ache with a painful fear for the future. "We both know the answer to that, but that doesn't mean…."

He got stuck, realizing Madara wouldn't believe him if he phrased it that way. He'd brush it off as yet another excuse, and it _did _sound like an excuse – a piss-poor one at that.

He took a deep breath, recollecting his thoughts. "I can't compare you to Konoha." Madara's cynical look flickered into one slightly flustered as he gazed into Hashirama's honest eyes. "This village doesn't belong to just me; it also belongs to everyone else. It's bigger than I am, it's bigger than what I feel, so I will always look out for it first – no matter who threatens it."

Madara clenched his jaw, yet he stared down at him almost triumphantly – he thought he was being proven right, and even though the victory tasted bitter, it was a victory nonetheless. Hashirama shook his head, letting out a sigh.

"Even so, I–" It burned in his mind; an image so cruel that it almost chocked him up completely. "Even so, if I… if I was forced to kill you, that would kill _me_ too. It would tear me apart far more painfully than if I had to watch this village burn. I don't know how I would ever recover from that, if at all."

The Uchiha seemed confused as he took in Hashirama's words in a startled silence. "What are you saying?"

"I love you, more than the village." He paused, taking a moment to look at Madara's bemused reaction, as if he'd been struck by lightning. "But I cannot act on my personal feelings. I have a responsibility now that I cannot neglect, not even for you. Still, I need you to know, that I really do _love _you. They're not just empty words, they mean something, at least to me." Madara seemed speechless for a moment, even opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but the look in Hashirama's eyes left no room for doubt.

Outside it started snowing. Neither of them noticed.

The hand around Hashirama's neck snaked to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss so soft, so different; without lust, without fire, only tender. It was a loving, almost reassuring softness. Hashirama drowned in it, pulling Madara closer with his arms wrapped around his lower back, Madara's lips parting with his own to caress his jaw line, feather-soft kisses trailing down his neck.

"Don't leave."

Hashirama was renown throughout the world, considered the strongest ninja of his time; people had even started calling him the God of Shinobi, and yet there he was, begging. _Begging_.

Madara gently pushed him back down on his futon as he ignored his desperate plea, hands brushing through Hashirama's thick hair as the temperature rose. Within seconds the pale visitor had removed his own top, his kisses turning more heated the more Hashirama begged.

"_Don't leave_."

His tongue slipped through Hashirama's dry lips, forcing a breathy moan out of him – in the end the man couldn't resist, and gave into Madara's wanting. It didn't take him long to take the rest of Hashirama's clothes off as well as his own, blatant in his intentions and making it all too bittersweet as this was, they both knew, the last time.

"Madara," Those whispers and groans and whimpers, no matter how apprehensive, only spurred him on. "Please, Madara–" Hashirama himself couldn't even tell what he was begging for anymore as Madara bit, sucked, licked all the sensitive spots of his sweating hot body. He had his eyes squeezed shut as he was leaning back on his elbows, Madara's kisses trailing lower and lower.

Fingers then curled around his thick erection, eliciting a deep moan, but his lover wasn't one for teasing. Hashirama nearly cursed, biting down on his lower lip as he felt a tongue briefly sweeping over the head of his cock, and gasped sharply when Madara took him in his mouth, his back arching and chest heaving with unsteady breaths. Madara sucked softly – briefly grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin, enjoying seeing Hashirama hiss and cringe away. When he pulled back again after a few seconds, Hashirama opened his eyes to give him a slightly confused – though mostly dazed – look, wondering what he was doing.

When Madara moved again, knees placed next to both of Hashirama's sides, the taller man swallowed audibly, the blood rushing to his face and coloring his cheeks red, his eyes wide. Madara didn't look embarrassed, didn't even glare at him for gaping; instead he stared back very intently, eyes once dull flaring back to life.

Hashirama could hardly breathe as he watched his lover position himself above him, his throbbing length firmly in Madara's grip as he slowly lowered himself down – the tip of Hashirama's cock pressing at his entrance. Madara took a deep breath, lowering even further until the head of the erect member had been pushed in, a soft grunt slipping past his lips. It was surprisingly less painful than he'd expected it to be, and he glanced down at Hashirama who was panting underneath him, eyes closed yet again.

Madara glowered down at him – he was putting in all that effort and the man wasn't even _looking _at him. He lowered himself down even further, faster than what was wise, his nerves igniting with a sharp ache. Hashirama moaned hotly, inadvertently raising his hips at the prickly feeling of ecstasy jolting through him, pushing himself even deeper and fully into Madara. The pale man lost all of the breath he'd been holding with a single groan, body instantly tensing as he hunched over at the pain, hands leaning down onto Hashirama's hard abdomen.

At least now the man was looking at him again – a lascivious stare with half-lidded eyes that would've made him shiver had his body not already been overwhelmed with the mixture of pain and faint pleasure coursing through it. Hashirama put a hand on his right leg, his thumb caressing the hot skin as if comforting him. Madara didn't wait to adjust to Hashirama, instead he started moving, up and slowly down again – gritting his teeth so hard his jaw was starting to hurt, though he was determined on not letting another sound escape him even if the feeling burned. Hashirama, on the other hand, had his mouth half-open, breathing heavily as soft moans reverberated against the walls of the bedroom, a sugary sweet noise to Madara's ears.

"_Madara_," he whispered almost soundlessly – repeating the name countless of times as his lover finally picked up his initially slow pace, his hands gripping Hashirama's shoulders as they both moved. His whispers ripped through Madara, as in spite of the lust there was an undertone there that wrenched a knife through his heart – Hashirama was still _begging_. Madara kissed his lips, his chin, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, he moaned sweet nothings in his ear, he put his arms around his neck as he made love to him so passionately he thought he was going to go delirious with pleasure – yet the whispers wouldn't stop.

Hashirama couldn't think of anything else, even as he was clinging to Madara, even as his toes curled when he climaxed, even as Madara's arms around him tightened in a rare embrace, even as they both tried to catch their breaths in the aftermath – it was still there, looming over him like a curse.

Their separation was inevitable.

They took a moment to just breathe, and stare into each other's eyes. Stare and realize that, even if everything was breaking apart and falling down at that moment, nothing could ruin moments like these and nothing could taint those sweet memories they'd share forever, just for the two of them.

Madara eventually shifted to lie down next to him on the futon, not saying a word about what had just happened, instead hogging up most of the space on Hashirama's pillow and staring up at him calmly; as if he were at peace.

When Hashirama made no movements to lie down as well, he frowned slightly, fingers reaching up to brush stray locks of hair out of Hashirama's face which was set in a glum expression. "Come lie down."

The man complied, and Madara felt like smacking him for that damned look in his eyes that made him feel so guilty and so terribly torn when he'd been so sure of himself just a few minutes ago.

"Madara, I–"

"Hashirama," Madara interceded softly. "Let's go to sleep."

'_Don't ruin the moment.'_

Hashirama nodded stiffly, pulling the thick blanket of the futon over them and putting an arm around Madara, the tips of their noses nearly touching as both closed their eyes and were lured into sleep – hands intertwined under the covers.

* * *

The sun hadn't risen yet when he woke up for a second time, his body rested but his head in turmoil the moment he noticed something was wrong.

There was no one laying by his side.

Fear gripping his heart, he scrambled to get out of his bed and had been about to rush out of his bedroom, when a shadow near the window stopped him from moving.

Madara, fully clothed, turned his head to give him a cool stare.

"You're still here," Hashirama muttered a little baffled, standing upright. He really had expected Madara to sneak off in the dead of night without even saying goodbye, but he was still there, in his room, waiting for him. "Are you… do you still want to leave?" It pained him to ask it, but he needed a clear answer.

Madara averted his gaze as Hashirama approached him, standing next to him near the window as he peered into the endless black of dark right before the dawn. "Yes."

He felt a hand gripping his shoulder almost painfully. "You don't have to." Madara glanced at his lover and instantly wished he hadn't – he looked _lost_. That was the worst of it all. Hashirama, a man that had always been so determined, so focused, so certain of himself, looked helpless. It was not an expression that ever should've been on that face, yet there it was – because of Madara.

Hashirama pulled him into his arms as if that would stop him from leaving. As if that would change his mind. Yet he couldn't help but react to it. They had precious few minutes left – still, Hashirama seemed insistent on trying to delay the unavoidable.

"Let me go. Let me say goodbye."

Hashirama's chin rested on Madara's shoulder, the pale man caught in a tight embrace with his own arms around Hashirama's shoulders. The heat of the taller man's body seared through their clothes, Madara unmoving as he relished the feeling of the warmth that enveloped him, knowing full well it would be the last time.

"Would I… would I ever see you again?"

"As stubborn as you are, I'm sure you'll find me eventually."

That wasn't nearly enough to set Hashirama at ease, but it was the best answer Madara could offer – the _only_ answer he could offer.

"What will you do?"

"Rest, think." Hashirama pulled back to stare at him questioningly, a deep worry clear on his features. Madara simply smiled, gently resting his forehead against Hashirama's, closing his eyes. "I'm tired of this village. I'm tired of this world."

He didn't know what he'd do yet, but wandering, and traveling, seemed far more appealing to him than staying here any longer. This place that suffocated him, this place that had betrayed all his hopes for the future, had turned his own clan against him. Anything was better than staying; anything was better than being trapped in Konoha any longer.

Ever since he'd spoken to Izuna, the numbness previously swirling in his chest had turned into a deep-rooted loathing. Not even his little brother, who'd thought of the village as a start to a brighter future, who'd loved and cherished their clan, could vouch for them any longer.

Madara didn't know what he'd do – perhaps the hatred burning him up, breaking off pieces of him from the inside, would lessen if he got some distance from the village, or perhaps it would grow stronger. He didn't know, but he supposed he'd find out soon enough.

"Will you ever come back?" Hashirama asked, hope laced in his words. Madara sighed lightly, hot breath blowing softly over Hashirama's lips.

"No, never."

There was a brief silence in which he heard Hashirama's breathing become heavier. "Madara–"

He slowly opened his eyes to stare into black ones entirely devoid of their usual happiness, instead pleading in pure desperation. Hashirama didn't have to finish his sentence for the other to understand.

"I wished things could've been different." Madara whispered back with a soft tone of regret, his lips brushing over Hashirama's before he pressed a chaste kiss on them. Hashirama responded strongly, immediately crushing his lips back down and leaving Madara's tingling as he didn't resist, letting Hashirama hold him, kiss him.

He had to pull back. He had to take his distance. He had to leave. Hashirama's pleas couldn't change that, his looks couldn't change that, his kisses couldn't change that, his love couldn't change that – it was set in stone too hard even for Hashirama to break.

So he _had _to pull back.

As he did, slipping out of his lover's arms, he had never seen such misery reflected in Hashirama's eyes before, but he knew they would haunt him forever.

Madara forced himself to smile, even while he felt like screaming on the inside. "Goodbye, my friend." Hashirama didn't stop him, and so he left.

He left the room, footsteps echoing softly through the corridors. He left the building, not another soul taking notice. He left the village, never to look back.

He left Hashirama, who kept standing in that same spot as if a statue affixed to the ground.

Eventually, rays of light heralding the morning fell through Hashirama's window onto his unmoving form. As he stood there, unable to move, he noticed something strange – a fact which barely registered at all as his mind stored it away somewhere into the depths of his subconscious.

The sun felt cold.

* * *

**What is this story doing to my feelings. I don't even know anymore.**

**FYI next chapter is the final chapter (which will obviously be pretty… really… long… yay!)**

**Thanks a million for all the reviews guys. I never thought this story would hit the 300 review mark, LET ALONE the 400! And anons, I love you all, but at least like give me a name to work with so I can tell who is who! :P**

**So um, I'm going to go… rethink my life… or something like that.**

**I hoped you liked it? Even hate/loved it?**

**See ya next time!**


	35. A Last Dance

**A Last Dance**

Konoha saddened her.

Perhaps she had been naïve to think the peace could've lasted, and perhaps she'd been foolish when she'd put her trust in Hashirama to fix _everything _– just like the rest of the village. When it was made clear, the day after his departure, that not even the Hokage could've stopped Madara from leaving, it seemed to reinforce the general belief that the man was a hopeless cause.

Not even the Uchiha seemed to care anymore for their wayward leader, instead distancing themselves from him altogether. Hikaku was named the next clan leader, though he didn't seem as friendly towards his clansmen as before. His resent towards them for having pushed Madara so far away was clearly palpable, though he took the position with no complaints and did the best he could.

While Tobirama merely scoffed at the event, no doubt having seen it coming from miles away, he – like Mito – was extremely concerned about Hashirama after Madara's departure. Had he been despondent, had he been angry, had he even been _crying_, it would've been a better sight than seeing him so devoid of life. Even the villagers noticed the strangely detached way he spoke to them and greeted them; his natural compassion lacking in his eyes, his usual cheer clouded by a politely impassive façade.

Yet they couldn't get him to talk. Every time either of them would bring up the topic of Madara, he'd simply smile and wave their concerns away with a casual gesture.

"He made his decision. There's nothing I can do, so why bother talking about it?"

He was lying through his teeth and they all knew it.

Neither Mito nor Tobirama actually noticed the real effect all of it started having on the man until several weeks had passed, and they only saw what he allowed them to see. They didn't see him when he was alone in his bed at night, swallowed up by anxiety. At first he'd been kept awake by his own misery – but about a week after Madara had left, he knew he had to put all of that aside and get some sleep.

The problem with that was that his dreams were always haunted – _red eyes, burning, spinning, glaring _– by the runaway Uchiha. Even the most pleasant of visions, memories of happier times, ended up shocking him awake while he grasped for a ghost long gone, only sending him further down a spiral of depression.

The village itself, in his eyes, had been sucked dry of all its beauty. It didn't feel warm anymore. The buildings were not homes; they were constructions of wood. The villagers were not family; they were people who happened to live in the village. Konoha was a _failure_. Even if the Uchiha clan condemned its own former leader, the rest of Konoha still eyed its clan members with suspicion – who was to say the rest of them wouldn't follow in Madara's footsteps?

Ultimately, everyone had been divided. It had all failed, collapsed on itself at the slightest sign of trouble, and had proven the skeptics right. Hashirama carried on, for the sake of carrying on. Tobirama brought up an old idea his brother had once had – carving the Hokage's head into the range overlooking the village as a symbol of his reign.

Hashirama had laughed at the idea humorlessly and had rejected it without a second thought. How could he possibly celebrate his reign as Hokage with such a monumental thing when that same reign had put a permanent wedge in between him and the man he considered to be his other half?

After a while, even Hashirama realized that Konoha was not the only thing falling apart.

He couldn't let go of that tiny splinter of hope that maybe, Madara would change his mind. Maybe he'd return, maybe he'd sort everything out with himself and come back. He thought about it for far too much than was healthy – it was not Madara's departure that killed him in the end, it was the hope that he couldn't let go that slowly drove him to the edge of sanity.

Hashirama started seeing him. At first it was just glimpses of him, like in the reflection of the windows across the street – so fast that he'd wonder if he'd actually seen it at all. They were fleeting moments of madness that he'd brush off easily enough. Yet these glimpses over the months, as winter melted into spring and spring flared into summer, accumulated into paranoia. No one was able to wake him from it.

Then the mad glimpses turned into several seconds of insanity. The harmless instants of recognition turned into malice. Accusatory glares in mirrors, the feeling of fingers squeezing his throat shut during the night, memories too vivid for him to bear – it didn't take long for other people to notice something was _horribly _wrong.

"Maybe… maybe you should take a break?" Mito suggested, regarding Hashirama's sunken eyes with worry as he sat against his desk, Hokage robes long abandoned and stashed away in a slim closet in the corner of the room. He'd wonder sometimes what Madara would've said had he seen those clothes – _'You're supposed to __**wear **__that atrocity?' _– and he cringed, because hearing his voice so clearly in his head always made him cringe.

Mito noticed, the concern in her eyes deepening. He'd been acting off like that for a while now, and it was starting to become a serious problem. He seemed paranoid, almost. He never took walks with her through the village anymore, he never sparred with his brother anymore, he never went out for drinks anymore – it was clear to everyone watching that Hashirama was in bad shape.

"I'm sure Tobirama wouldn't mind filling in for a few days if you–"

"I'm fine." Hashirama cut in brusquely, too tired to bring up a smile. This was the position that he'd let Madara and him get torn apart over; there was no way in hell he was going to neglect his duties, not even for a few days.

"You're not _fine_," Mito insisted with a slight frown, as her patient approach didn't seem to have any effect. "You need to rest. You're useless to the village all worn out like this."

He sighed, his elbows on the table as he rubbed his temples. "Mito, please, just leave me be."

"And watch you destroy yourself?" she retorted sharply, hands on her hips. "I know it hurts, what happened with Madara–"

"This has nothing to do with him."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not–"

"_Stop_ lying!" They were caught in a silence, Mito unwilling to back out and Hashirama trying to think of a way to get out of the conversation as she stared him down. Even she had been brought to the end of her patience. He remembered his fall-out with Tobirama just two days ago as well. He'd been insisting on the same thing; that Hashirama take a break from his duties. Of course, the Hokage had immediately refused, which had severely agitated his younger brother.

"_How long are you going to keep pretending?"_

"_I'm not pretending. Everything is just fine."_

"_So this is what it has come down to, huh? Lying to your own brother, straight in his face?" _

"_It's not like that–"_

"_Spare me your bullshit. I don't want to hear it."_

"_You're overreacting!"_

"_The closest family I have left is like a walking dead man and I'm __**overreacting**__?!"_

"_Tobirama–"_

He'd turned his back on his older brother and stalked off, seething with anger – and for that, Hashirama couldn't blame him. He didn't know what he was doing anymore, but he did know he was inadvertently starting to push everyone away.

He stared up at Mito – the only one still willing to try and talk some sense into him, her dark blue eyes burning with worry for him. Was it really wise to try and hide it any longer, hurting the people around him as he did? Wasn't he just being utterly selfish?

As Hashirama opened his mouth to apologize, two young shinobi stormed into his office, looking rather panicked. Mito whirled around in surprise as they came in and the Hokage straightened up, alarmed by the distress written all over their faces and how out of breath they were.

"Lord Hokage, it's an emergency!"

"I can see that. What is it?"

The two exchanged glances, as if bracing themselves for his reaction. "It's… it's Madara Uchiha, my lord."

From their tone, both Mito and Hashirama could tell what decision Madara had made. Mito paled as she realized where this was heading, immediately turning her head to look at Hashirama's reaction.

His face was as hard as stone.

* * *

Anonymity was a breath of fresh air. No more was he stalked by condemning glances or judgmental whispers as people gossiped about him when he walked by. Covered by a cloak, face hidden in the shadow of his hood, no one knew who he was. Even as he passed through small villages, people hardly looked up at him, assuming he was just another traveler passing by.

It gave Madara a chance to enjoy a different perspective, to take a step back and view the rest of the world in a more objective light. Rather than being chained down by his own anger and loathing, his mind was clear. Izuna had told him to look out for himself, to try and make himself happy, and he knew hatred was a poison that could twist a man's thoughts into something wicked. It hadn't been easy, but he'd managed to push aside his thoughts about his clan, his village, the future – and he simply observed.

He couldn't push aside thoughts about Hashirama, however. Those would always remain, whether he wanted them to or not.

So those first few weeks alone, wandering the world, never hanging around the same place for longer than a few days – it was as close to paradise as he'd ever get.

Then, eventually, his journey ended.

And that excruciating numbness came back.

Madara figured it would happen at some point. He was not someone who could be content with such a tranquil life forever, after all. His hawk, Sora, accompanied him – following him always, no matter where he went. She was the only company he had, and wandering like an outsider to the rest of the world started frustrating him eventually.

But he couldn't return to Konoha. He could _never _return to Konoha. Was this what he'd doomed himself to, then? An empty life as he watched and contemplated both the beauty and the cruelty of the world?

Yes, cruelty was plenty. He knew it well – far better than most. He'd almost call it a life-long companion, and had never had trouble seeing it. In fact, most days, it was all that clouded his vision. Yet, after spending a few days traveling, Madara had started seeing kindness in the world as well. In fact, most ordinary people still believed in peace, in justice, in happiness – and they lived their lives that way, trying to keep to their principles no matter how difficult times were.

He supposed he had Hashirama to thank for seeing so clearly – that same beauty would've been lost on him had he not experienced it himself. His time in the village had not only been colored by the bad, but by the good as well.

Madara wondered where he'd be if he'd never been loved or held so dearly to someone's heart. Would he be trying to destroy Konoha? Or would he be trying to fix it? Would he be trying to fix the whole world, in fact, having seen how broken it had become?

He supposed it didn't matter anymore. He could never return to Konoha, he could never return to Hashirama, and his life was – though peaceful – entirely devoid of purpose. His role had ended. So what _should_ he do, then? Roam the lands until the end of his lifespan, an old man dying all alone?

No, he was asking the wrong question.

What did he _want _to do?

Perhaps – _a vicious demon on the battlefield, mowing through hoards of fine soldiers like they were mere pawns, coloring the grass red with their blood like an artist painting a masterpiece_ – the sparks of battle was the answer.

He remembered each and every one of his battles vividly, those against Hashirama even more-so than others. Their fights had been different, even back when they had still been enemies; that lethal rhythm that did not forgive even the slightest of mistakes, that almost addictive adrenaline pumping through his body – it had always reminded him of his own mortality. But, more importantly, it had made him feel _alive_.

Then, perhaps, that would be his answer.

A last dance.

* * *

Tobirama knew his brother would catch up to them soon, but he had to see the threat with his own eyes, first. No one knew what Madara was planning, but seeing as how he'd taken out five Konoha shinobi on a whim it couldn't be good. He'd been certain reviving Izuna had changed _something_, but apparently it hadn't been substantial enough to pull Madara off his course.

The younger Senju brother had a small squad of five following him as they were headed towards the location Madara had been last spotted, a few miles away from Konoha. Tobirama knew it wasn't nearly enough manpower to take out the former Uchiha clan leader, but they weren't there to fight him – at most they'd try to stall him, until reinforcements arrived.

It was easy enough for him to sense the man's location, but as they approached, Tobirama couldn't help but feel something was… off. Still, he couldn't tell what it was that irked him, not until he came face to face with the traitor. And that he did.

When Tobirama and his squad emerged from the forest, they found him standing there at the edge of the valley bordering the woods, left hand around the neck of a wounded shinobi – the man seeming to have passed out as the bodies of his teammates were spread out on the ground in front of them. His right hand held his war fan, with a scythe strapped to his back – its blade still unused.

Madara dropped the injured man in his grasp to the ground rather callously, looking up to meet Tobirama's gaze, and then sneered. "You're not the ones I'm waiting for. "

"Sorry to disappoint." Tobirama looked at his fellow Konoha shinobi lying on the ground. None of them were dead – three on the verge of dying, two simply unconscious, but they were still alive. Again, that feeling that something strange was going on came up, and he wondered why Madara hadn't just killed them.

"I'm not here to waste my time on small fry."

Tobirama looked back up at him, scowling slightly as he felt his brother's presence not far behind them drawing near, but before he could even get a word out, the sole Uchiha in his squad – Daichi – hissed at his former leader.

"You have no right to pick and choose your opponents, traitor!"

Madara, very casually, glanced at the man, eyebrows raising just a bit with the slightest recognition. "Still alive I see, Daichi. Color me surprised. With a mouth like that I'd have expected _someone _to assassinate you by now."

"You–!"

"Daichi! Stay back!" Tobirama's warning came too late and the angry man had already rushed towards Madara weapons at the ready – who, almost comically, stepped aside to dodge his attack, a brief kick making Daichi trip and fall down face-first.

A foot stomped down on his head, the brash man grunting at the pain as Madara glared down at him. "As I said before – small fry." He turned his impatient gaze toward Tobirama. "If you're going to try to entertain me, you'll have to do better than this."

That was when Tobirama finally realized what had changed. There was no hatred in the man's eyes directed towards them, towards Konoha – there wasn't any hatred to speak of, not even anger. This wasn't even _about_ Konoha. This was about Hashirama.

"What are you aiming for, Madara?" Tobirama couldn't help but ask, starting to get highly suspicious of the other's strangely aloof behavior. He didn't respond. "Won't even talk, huh? Not even after that favor I did you?"

Madara's eyes narrowed. "I owe you nothing, _Senju." _he spat with scorn, Tobirama's squad mates giving the two curious looks. Madara removed his foot from Daichi's head, who glared up at him, heaving himself up to his hands and knees.

"What are you staring at me for? Go on, crawl back to your master." Madara derided him, nodding towards Tobirama. "Or would you rather have me end your miserable existence now?"

The sound of firm steps interrupted the conversation. Everyone's movements stilled, eyes fixed on the figure approaching them from a small distance, hidden in the shadows of the trees. Tobirama tensed; he had no clue how his brother would react to this turn of events, or whether he'd even be able to handle a battle in his current condition. He'd slowly been drained of energy for almost a whole year, while Madara seemed to be on the top of his game.

So Hashirama emerged from the forest – the reaction from Madara was immediate. A wide smirk cracked through his cold mask, all his attention fixated on the Hokage as the others present were entirely ignored. Tobirama frowned at his brother, frustrated – he'd come alone. So he was intending to give Madara a fair fight.

Hashirama's expression, on the other hand, was deadpan. Still, Tobirama could see – and Madara could too – all the turmoil of emotions reflected in those dark eyes, smoldering with anger.

"Take the injured and leave." His voice cut through the tension like a knife, and no one thought twice about his orders. Tobirama's squad, though reluctant to approach Madara, quickly grabbed their injured comrades, lifting them up and carrying them away, retreating back into the forest.

Tobirama hesitated as he followed them initially, turning to glance over his shoulder at his brother. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. What could he say that Hashirama didn't already know? So with one last glare aimed at Madara, the source of all his brother's anguish, he turned his back on the two and left them, accompanying his team back to take care of the wounded.

"It's been a while, Hashirama."

They were alone, and yet while their reunion should've been sweet, the reality of the situation was far more bitter than that.

Hashirama looked and saw a man driven by something he could not understand. Madara looked and saw a man bleeding out for his village until there would be nothing left but an empty husk. They had strayed so far from each other that they'd almost become strangers.

Still, Hashirama tried to reach him. "Why are you doing this?"

Still, Madara rejected him. "I can't tell you." He knew full well that if he made his intentions clear that the other would refuse to fight him at all, even if it cost him his own life. So pretending to hate the village he did. If it meant he could feel alive again, no price was too high.

"I told you, didn't I?" Hashirama murmured, barely able to keep his voice steady with his hands balled into fists, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms. "If you force me to fight you, if you force me to… to kill you–"

"Are you so confident that you can?" Madara cut in almost cruelly in a cocky tone – and old throwback to how they used to speak to each other in times of war. "You're welcome to try."

It was an act, but he pulled it off well – even with part of him shouting at himself to drop his weapons and surrender, let Hashirama wrap his arms around him and pull him so close he could feel the man's heart beating against his own chest. He longed for that familiar warmth, that heat he hadn't felt in months – and yet, the allure of battle was stronger, far stronger, far more potent.

Even back when he'd been a mere child, war had been his blood – the fuel to his anger, his life, his focus, his purpose, his beginning. It only seemed fitting to him, to end it that way as well. He was a shinobi, and if he were to die he would die in battle. He _had _to die in battle; nothing else made sense.

"Is this really how you want to end it?" Hashirama seemed so tired, so drained. This was what Konoha– no, not Konoha. This was what Madara had broken him into, by leaving. "After almost a year, you suddenly come back, and _this _is how you want to end us?"

"There has never been another end to our story, and there never will be." Madara replied coolly, pulling the scythe off his back, his Sharingan flaring. "If you don't stop me, I'll destroy Konoha. I'll burn it into the ground, leaving nothing but ashes."

An ultimatum. Anger pulsed – that look of betrayal, it left Madara feeling strangely cold, as if he were staring at his own reflection in the mirror. Yes, it was a betrayal. Yes, it was selfishness. But even so, as Hashirama made the first step, elation brushed it all away in one fell swoop of insanity. Madara knew his mind was completely warped and nothing in his head made sense anymore, yet, he was genuinely happy. Happy, with battle and blood and death, as Izuna had told him to be.

Oh, he was cracked at his core, oh, he was a madman feigning sanity, and oh, how hopelessly damaged he was – but it didn't matter, because he was happy with his destruction, as long as Hashirama was the one to end it, and end it he would.

* * *

Bellows, distant echoes – battle cries, he remembered. All of it was as if it had come straight out of a memory to replay itself in reality, yet this memory would be their last.

Hashirama was so tired of being denied happiness. He was so tired of misery. Almost a whole year he'd been left on his own, genuine smiles having become a rarity on his face where once they were ample. That hope he'd clung to, that fantasy he hadn't been able to let go, came crashing down on him with all its weight as Madara's laughter echoed and tore through his head and ripped him apart from the inside out.

The Kyuubi roared and the sky was clouded. Burning, so familiar, smoke everywhere, everything ached, everything was red.

Madara had intended this to be their last battle from the very beginning.

'_Konoha.' _It was the only thing still keeping him going. _'__**Konoha**__.' _

Then, it slowly started seeping in, at one point during their battle. He couldn't tell when it had happened, because everything had turned into a blur of sounds and movements, but it made its way into his stream of consciousness eventually.

Madara stood on top of the tamed Kyuubi, the Nine-tailed Fox clad in Susanoo's armor – and he was smirking, he was laughing, he was enjoying himself. He'd threatened to eradicate everything Hashirama had worked so hard for – that the two of them had worked so hard for, and yet, he was _enjoying himself._

Hashirama tried. He knew it was futile, but he tried, as he stared up at Madara, wondering what he looked like to the man._"_Do you want to destroy all that we've done so far? All our efforts? _Us_? And for what?!"

His desperate scream went unheard.

"It doesn't matter!"

That Madara answered, and that he meant.

'_It doesn't matter?'_

Hashirama's eyes widened, as that tiny thought that had nudged at him before became a full-blown shout reverberating through his mind.

This was not about Konoha. This had never been about Konoha.

"Madara–"

'_You can't do this to me.'_

The Kyuubi screamed – the battle would go on; Madara would make sure it would. He would make sure that one of them would fall.

"Madara! _Don't do this to me_!"

For a moment he thought Madara had heard him and had actually listened to his plea, because the pale man looked down at him with a strained look in his eyes as he tensed at Hashirama's distraught voice. However, there was no hesitation in his features. This was what he'd decided; this was the path he'd chosen to take.

At the same time, Hashirama could not falter. The village depended on him – he still had his family, he still had his friends, he still had people to look out for. He'd wanted so badly, so desperately, to make Madara part of that circle. Hashirama didn't know what he could've done to change it, and perhaps Madara had been even right in saying this end had always been meant for them – but that did not lessen the pain.

"You can't back down now, Hashirama!"

Madara was right. It was too late now. Everything was too late, and so their war waged on. It all felt strangely quiet, and it was a battle beyond any they'd had so far – they were trying so hard to kill each other and it made Hashirama sick to his stomach that this was what they'd ended up becoming.

It made him even sicker knowing there was nothing left to do for him but to fight. Fight to murder that man whom he'd held so many times before – _his beloved_, whom he loved more than the village he'd vowed to protect. Yet he had no choice.

Even as Madara started losing control of the battle, it didn't seem to affect him anymore. It was not even the battle he was focused on, it was solely Hashirama. All his movements were a response to Hashirama's, adjusted to him so perfectly, even as the Kyuubi was put to sleep and Hashirama leveled with him.

He seemed to enjoy the close combat even more – while Hashirama tore into him and he tore into Hashirama, a blazing spray of flames scorching all that came in contact with it, then a flow of icy water killing the sizzling fire – and Hashirama's blade, tearing through Madara's flesh.

It was torment. Madara looked so full of life – and at the same time, Hashirama was draining him from it, bit by bit. He would never forgive himself. Every single blow he dealt him that brought the man closer to death was another stain on his conscience, slowly soaking it in black.

Blood was all his eyes could see. Madara's blood, sprayed over his broken armor, splattered over the ground in the valley they'd carved out, leaking out of his wounds to drop on the ground.

Madara's blood, on his hands.

Not even the rain could wash it all away.

"So it has come down to this."

They stood on opposite sides of the ruined landscape, water slowly streaming down their valley, both knowing this would be their last clash and with that, they would decide who would take the fall. Madara was too depleted of his chakra to activate his Sharingan again.

Hashirama could've taken advantage of that, but he didn't.

Somewhere he realized this was a fatal mistake, but so exhausted he was that it hardly even occurred to him – he wrote it off as just a faint observation he'd made, storing it off somewhere into the recesses of his mind.

Madara, firmly gripping both of his weapons in his hands, stared into Hashirama's eyes with a light smirk. It took only a moment – and they shot forward.

Hashirama saw it all falling apart before it did. He immediately realized he should've laid a trap for Madara with a clone since the man couldn't tell the difference without his Sharingan – and he knew he'd be cut down mercilessly. He knew this mistake would cost him his life. He knew he'd feel the blade of that scythe shredding through his shoulder and into his torso.

_Yet it didn't happen._

His **own **blade – he felt it, every split-second of it – pierced through Madara's torso, ripping through his body like a knife cutting through paper.

Madara choked, hands gripping Hashirama's shoulders – his eyes could barely process what had just occurred. What he'd just _done_. Madara could've evaded that attack. He _should've _evaded that attack.

Pale hands slackened their grip, Hashirama's hands weakened, Madara slid down. He was the one that fell. Hashirama's blade fell down next to him, clattering down on the ground.

'_No,'_

Hashirama gazed down at Madara lying on his back, barely breathing, for just a moment, until he dropped on his knees, hands shaking as they reached for the dying man, gently pulling him into his arms, a dizzying ache leaving him almost reeling.

'_No!'_

This couldn't be happening. He should've been the one falling after that mistake, he should've been the one nearly choking on his own blood as Madara held him close – his mouth was half-open with words that couldn't come out. Madara held onto life by just a thread, peaceful eyes gazing up at Hashirama's horror-struck face.

"W-why… why didn't you dodge?" Almost quieter than the rain, but Madara heard his words, and smiled. "Why didn't you dodge?!"

"Because this is… the end I… wanted…."

Hashirama didn't know what to say any longer. All the things he wanted to say, everything he wanted to scream at him – it was all too cluttered from him to know where to start.

Nothing else but a single, clear thought came to mind amidst the chaos, shouting at him from the depths of his consciousness. "I… I loved– I love you, but you…."

"Don't regret a thing," Madara whispered back, fingertips meekly brushing over Hashirama's cheek, leaving behind a trail of blood. "I am happy."

Heart shattered, pieces of it left, its sharp edges cutting through Hashirama's chest – he could barely breathe – he saw the blood, he saw Madara's life slipping away from him, he saw those eyes dulling – he panicked. Hashirama knew he should've accepted it, yet the sight of him so weakened, on the verge of death–

"Hashirama," Madara was starting to drift away with the rain, his voice growing ever so softer. "_I am happy._"

"Don't, don't leave, please don't–"

"I'll… wait for you… on the other side… and we'll meet again."

How could he smile? How could he look him in the eyes and smile, while he was dying, and Hashirama was dying with him?

"Madara, please, don't leave me again–" His eyes were starting to close and Hashirama's chest tightened with unbearable ache. "Madara! Stay with me!"

"I'll wait for you." He was fading away, and Hashirama had to watch. Watch him as he died. "I love you, and I'll wait… _for you_…."

His eyes closed. His breathing stopped. He was gone. There was no grand last scene. It had all gone so silently, so easily; the wind had swept him away as if he'd never been at all, and there remained nothing else to hang onto.

Now he was just another death on the endless list of casualties of this world. A man so powerful wiped off the face of the earth just like that, leaving but a shell behind.

It had ended. They had ended.

Hashirama's arms couldn't let go of the cold body pressed against his own, not even after minutes and hours had passed, and not even when the rain had stopped yet his tears hadn't, and not even when Konoha had been reduced to nothing more than just another word in his vocabulary. He had seen death before. He'd hoped to never see it so close to his heart again. Fate had not spared him.

"_I am happy."_

Madara did look happy – he even seemed as if he was simply sleeping, but the blood staining Hashirama's hands broke through that illusion. Still, Madara had to be happy; he'd probably see Izuna again.

"_I'll wait for you."_

Until that day, it would ache. Hashirama knew that pain would never fade, not until the day he died and perhaps even beyond it. No matter how much everyone else celebrated his deed, no matter what they said to him and no matter how much they praised him, it was all meaningless in the face of the truth.

Night turned into dawn. Hashirama barely noticed. His arms had already gone numb, but they kept holding that lifeless body.

Tobirama eventually found him. The expression on his face was telling – Hashirama must've looked absolutely horrible. He hardly cared – eyes having shed all their tears. The anguish had faded. Now all that was left was a sharp ache, and an emptiness that swallowed his mind whole.

Tobirama knelt down in front of him, started talking to him. Hashirama knew words were coming out of his brother's mouth, and he recognized the sounds – but they didn't matter. All that mattered to him was a single sentence far greater than his own life and greater than that moment and greater than the entire world.

"_I love you."_

For that and that alone, Hashirama would move on. He would move on, and see his life to a proper end, so that when they met again, he could look Madara in the eyes without shame.

But first, he had to let go. And letting go was always the hardest part.

* * *

Things could've gone so differently, for the both of them. Konoha's future had been forever changed – Madara, in the end, had accepted both the good and the bad of the world, resting peacefully with the knowledge that no matter how dire a state the world was in, even amidst the most hopeless of situations, there was always light shining through the chaos. It was a balance, and it couldn't be changed. He'd let go and had been happier for it.

Hashirama endured, as he always did. He remained alone for the rest of his life – but as he suffered, his friends, his family, pulled him through it. He'd never been quite the same, never had regained that cheerfulness people had known him for, never had gotten back that liveliness – his presence had turned cold. Yet he'd let go of Madara, he'd soldiered on, and even though it tormented him every night, he knew it was the best thing he could've done. Not just for him, not just for his beloved, but for all his other loved ones as well.

So when it came time to say goodbye to them and to leave himself, he drifted off knowing he'd done everything he could, and knowing he'd be able to meet Madara again with no more regrets.

Just another war. He'd be just another casualty. He was fine with that; he'd worn himself out over the years and it had accumulated into this, bleeding out while sitting against a tree in the forest, a pool of blood forming beneath him. Hashirama was relieved and at ease as he knew Tobirama would take good care of the village. Truth be told he could've probably survived those wounds, but at that moment, Hashirama chose to let go instead. It was time for him to move on.

He heard it then, in those last moments, as he breathed his final breaths and his vision faded.

The softest whisper.

"_It's been a while, Hashirama."_

* * *

**I literally cried like a baby while writing this. I am not even joking, and I think a piece of me just… died. Yeah. It died. A piece of my soul died. Why do I do this to myself.**

**Damn, this is the end! I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but at the same time, I'm sad (other than for the obvious reasons). I couldn't have done it without you guys kicking my ass into getting motivated with your amazing reviews and omg just… I love you so much. I really do.**

**I don't know when the other HashiMada fic I planned will be up. Really soon, actually. I finished the first five chapters and since it's summer vacation and I have no life it should be up fairly quickly. Keep an eye out for '**_**Pieces of Bright'. **_**It should be happier than this fic. Slightly. **

**But wow. That was it. Just… just wow. **

**This was one hell of a ride.**

**I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it, and I hope to see you again in the future **


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